


For the Glory

by Eisengrave, Maelikki



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, RP format, Sort Of, also somewhat a metal band AU, another long haul, mentions of past Tweek/Craig, more football team because I am never over it, one-sided Stan/Kyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 105,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisengrave/pseuds/Eisengrave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maelikki/pseuds/Maelikki
Summary: It was just a normal Friday night. Craig never expected it to be the night to turn his life into a god damn movie. And not even a good one, but one of those that has you bawling your eyes out and wishing your own, teenage years were a little more filled with romance and heartbreak. Whatever. It sucked, big time. A broken heart keeps on beating, doesn't it?[Last year of Highschool AU, if you will. Chapters will be tagged between Staig and Twyle]





	1. Collapsing Star [Stan&Craig]

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, we're back at it again.
> 
> RP FORMAT! Watch as the POV bounces!
> 
> MORE FOOTBALL! This is unrelated to California Dreamin', just so it's clear :D

The air in the locker room was humid. Whether that was from the showers already running or the sweat pouring off of the whole team after two and a half hours of hard training, no one really cared.  Craig was glad to finally be allowed to get out of his sweaty clothes, kind of envying Clyde on the other side of the room, freshly showered and getting dressed.

Even Julien, his right guard, was already done with his shower and so were the other guys, all more or less in a state of undress.  Craig didn’t mind practising for longer than usual, but he wasn’t a big fan of being singled out for it.

Okay, just to be fair, it hadn’t just been him.  Behind his back, he could hear Marsh let his weight fall on the bench a few seats further. Craig turned back towards his locker and from the corner of his eyes watched him undo the clasps on his helmet and pull the thing off, revealing a sweaty mess of black hair and a face that still hadn’t lost the hardened look Stan Marsh got when he meant business.

A while ago, Craig had disliked Marsh and his attitude, but things had changed between them, for the better. Coach Mason would surely like to hear it and Craig was certainly not gonna give him that, but maybe his strategy of simply forcing close proximity between him and Marsh not just on the field but off of it as well by making them roommates at summer camp or had them sit next to each other on bus rides was working after all.

Craig took his shoulder pads off, followed by the thin undershirt. The cool air on his heated up skin felt good and he reveled in it for a moment. When he opened his eyes, they had wandered over to Marsh again who was now writing something down on a small notepad. He was still fully clothed.

Marsh didn’t just work hard, he worked his ass off. Craig had disliked him because things just seemed to come to him, but after having shared rooms and seats with him, it was crystal clear that just wasn’t true. Stan Marsh, South Park’s golden boy and hope for glory, dedicated his life to the cause, in order to carry them all and he did so all on his own.

Craig did not envy him anymore.

 

Across the locker room, Stan had no idea that anyone was paying much attention to him or his actions. He was hot and sweaty and uncomfortable, but his head was churning with ideas that couldn’t wait until after his shower. A shower he deserved, surely, after an excellent practice. He had a habit of being the last one off of the field and the last one to go home. There was always something to do, something to clean up, comments to be heard from the coaches and plans to go through before next week. Stan didn’t mind spending the time, he kind of liked the empty locker room, but he wasn’t alone right now.

Craig fucking Tucker was still here. Of course, that made sense. The two of them had spent the last twenty minutes snapping, even swapping positions just so they could harmonize a little better. Mason’s agenda of making the two of them get along seemed to be working. Stan didn’t mind so much, anymore. It was just part of practice now. They weren’t little kids anymore, and their old grudge was long buried.

“No plans on a friday night, Tucker?”

Everyone else had hustled out of the locker room already, excited, relieved, ready for their well-earned weekend.

 

“If I had any they just died. Mason doesn’t care if you have plans. Practise is practise.”

Craig was glad to step out of his pants and took care to fold them and put them into his training bag. A glance over to Marsh saw him finally getting rid off his clothing, too.

“You?”

When Marsh snorted and shook his head, Craig shrugged.

“Yea, thought so. Party time’s when we’ve won something. All other nights I like to get some sleep, really.”

He took off his last pieces of clothing and slung a towel over his shoulder. The conversation with Marsh was still ongoing so he didn’t leave just yet.

 

Stan wasn’t as quickly naked as Craig (who seemed to lack any sense of decency because that towel could be around his waist), but he was getting there, pulling the pads off of his shoulders. 

“Woulda thought that you’d at least be having a date night or something going on.” Stan made the comment offhandedly, ignoring the twinge in his chest. He was completely okay with gay people, and no amount of discomfort around Craig would convince him otherwise.

 

The question had Craig shake his head. Tweek knew Fridays weren’t really for them to spend together. Sure, sometimes they saw each other later in the night, but usually, they spent the weekend together.

“Tweek’s put band practise on Fridays, too. I’ll see him tomorrow. Or later.”

It was all the same issue anyway. Girl- or boyfriends, both demanded time and attention and were either completely devoted to their respective boyfriend’s life or they were just like any sane person and didn’t understand what football really meant to those involved.

That at this point, it was more than just a game to most of the guys playing.

It wasn’t like Craig wanted it to be, but having played with these guys for the past four years, having spent so much time together, practicing to get better… then actually getting better and now, in the middle of the season, being already hyped as one of the wildcards? It took over your life and even Craig Tucker’s infamous middle finger was incapable of just flipping off and not caring about the pressure that came with that.

Tweek didn’t understand, but he stuck around with him anyway, scheduled his own hobbies around Craig’s and didn’t really comment on it much. At first, Craig had been perplexed that Tweek did all this and now, things had kind of changed. Craig appreciated that Tweek did this, was so accepting and cool with the way football ate his boyfriend’s life.

 

“How about you?” He asked, “Stan Marsh not having a chick ready in each arm? Unbelievable.”  Craig snorted. That was how South Park saw the guy after all, the insanely talented quarterback, cherished by everyone, his whole life a party.  Except if they lost of course, but that was a whole different story.

 

“When have I ever had two girls in my arms?” Stan snorted as he peeled himself out of his pants, “Not dating Wendy right now. I think she’s having a Wendell phase, anyway. She’s all on that train again, so, you know, better cut loose.”

 

“Last month, Token’s house party? Jessica and Stacy?”   Why did he remember stuff like that? Craig was slightly put off by his own selective memory, but he played it cool.

“Wendell? That’s what she calls her drag persona?”  When Stan frowned at him, Craig chuckled. “Ever heard of RuPaul’s drag race? Yeah, me neither. Except I have a boyfriend who loves that show more than me.”

He waited until Stan had taken off even the last piece of clothing and seeing him wear a jockstrap, well, Craig was just a guy with certain interests and Marsh’s ass did look good like that. Extremely good. Like, delectably good.That one brief thought had him already feel bad and he calmed himself by thinking that he’d like Tweek wearing one as well. Or nothing at all, really.

Bad train of thought when you were naked and about to hit the showers, so he went back to Marsh’s girlfriend and her ideas.

“She turns into your boyfriend then or what?”

 

“She turns into someone that wants to be free to explore. Besides, being my girlfriend sucks, I spend most of my time on football anyway. We decided it’s better if we just split and stay friends.” Stan shrugged as he wrapped his towel around himself and herded Craig towards the shower. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to be alone together, and Stan found nothing uncomfortable right now.

The water was heaven and Stan groaned when it hit his skin.

“I wouldn’t care, by the way, if she was my boyfriend instead. But Wendell’s a fucking player. I only like loyal boys.” He grinned to himself as he turned the shower to the hottest setting.

 

Craig stared at him for a moment. Loyal boys? Marsh was _gay_?  Then he finally understood the joke and shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, I get you. Loyal, local boys just have that artisanal feel about them.”

Marsh’s expression at that had Craig laugh. He reached for his shampoo and put a big glorp of it into his hand before smearing it into his hair.

“See, you can’t make jokes like that with a homo.”

 

“Damn it, man. Can you be like, not gay for at least a joke?” Stan shrugged. He didn’t have a problem or a frail sense of masculinity, but connecting with Craig as a friend was somehow entirely impossible to balance with a complete lack of making some fun of him. Except, you know, Craig tended to turn it around. Stan tried, at least once a week, but nothing ever landed and usually Stan also felt like an ass for trying in the first place.

“That one had potential. Though I guess I should have used a better adjective.”

 

“It baffles me you even know that word. I sure don’t, I play football too much.”

The light banter with Marsh put Craig in a good mood. Only a year ago, they would’ve probably end up at each other’s throats about the smallest of things, but here they were, amiable with each other, showering in peace and laughing about dumb jokes.

“So, essentially, we’re both just fucking sad idiots that go home after practise, jerk it to some weirdass porn and then go straight to sleep because tomorrow’s finally a day without practise. Sounds fucking amazing to me.”

 

“Speak for yourself. I watch totally normal porn.” Stan ribbed him gently, scrubbing his greasy, sweaty hair lazily. There was no rush to get home. Home was kind of...depressing. Not because of his parents and their continuous fighting, but because he knew for a fact that Kyle had projects he was working on tonight and definitely not coming over. Sometimes, Stan felt like he forgot that he had any other friends at all.

“Maybe I’ll rewatch some of the Cubs’ footage. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.” Nevermind that Stan and Mason had already chewed through the footage second by second, dissecting every play.

 

“Fun.” Craig commented, rinsing his hair and proceeding to scrub his body in with some shower gel and a washcloth. Marsh looked like he was in an ad for a shampoo brand, the way he was massaging his scalp and looking like he was about to get off on it.

God, it had been way too long since Tweek and he had gotten frisky (last weekend), he couldn’t explain his stray thoughts otherwise.

Craig finished his washing procedure, rinsed everything off and went for the exit. He didn’t have anywhere to be, but he couldn’t stay here with Marsh and think gay things about him. As he passed the guy though he slapped him with the wet washcloth, not hard enough to leave a welt, but a red mark in any case.

“Enjoy your imaginary shampoo ad. I’m out.”

 

“Enjoy your weekend, asshole!” Stan snapped, shaking shampoo out of his eyes. Alright, maybe he didn’t like Craig Tucker that much.

 

Beyond the locker room, Tweek was keeping himself entertained with his phone as he waited for his boyfriend. Former, soon-to-be, if everything went according to plan. He could barely hear the music that was blasting through his headphones, his nervous heart producing thunder in his head. He was gonna do it, this time. Last weekend had been a massive cock-up which ended with some cock up Tweek’s ass (he couldn’t complain about it) but today, he’d do the right thing. No matter how hot Craig would look, or how sweet he might find the surprise waiting for him. Tonight would be their last together.

Craig showed up only two minutes later, training bag slung over his shoulder. His hood helped against the cold outside, but it didn’t help against the surprise waiting for him outside. Tweek was sitting near the entrance to the stadium, as per usual apparently impervious to the cold because it didn’t keep him from wearing ripped jeans and only a loose black, unzipped jacket over his equally black shirt. Craig’s lips stretched into a little smile as he came closer, stepped between his boyfriend’s legs and leaned down to kiss him. Maybe his evening wasn’t going to be shit and boring alone.

“Hey baby. You waiting for someone?” He teased, softly.

Tweek was pretty decent at fielding Craig’s soft affection these days. And that included directing the kiss he was getting to his cheek and smiling tensely instead.

“Hey Craig,” he pulled his headphones off. With Craig standing like this, he couldn’t get up, but he made a motion to, anyway. Usually, his boyfriend took notice of when he was antsy like this.

“Markus cancelled, so no practice tonight. I-I thought we could get some food and talk.” Not go to dinner, no. Tweek didn’t usually stutter anymore, and the anxious way he was glancing around was just more hard evidence of his nerves. He just hoped Craig didn’t get the wrong idea from all of this.

Craig did get the note that Tweek wanted to get up, so he stepped back. He also understood that something was wrong.

That something was wrong between them, Craig didn’t understand, however. When they walked next to each other, he took Tweek’s hand and pulled him to his side, gently.

“You okay?” No answer, only a twitch of his hand. No motion to return the soft gesture, “Tweek?”

Fuck. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, no contest. Tweek knew he couldn’t go on, he couldn’t do this to Craig, couldn’t lead him on like that. It wasn’t fair and he should just get it over with, instead of wasting away their afternoon on idle conversation. It felt alien and weird to pull away from Craig, but he really couldn’t take anymore of those soft, subtle gestures of affection. Craig was too nice a boyfriend to be lied to, and that was essentially what Tweek had been doing, by omission. Once free of Craig’s hand, he stepped out in front of him to face him. They were on the cusp of the parking lot, Tweek’s van parked close by.

“Okay? No, I’m not okay. I didn’t...I didn’t plan on it like this, but I have to say it.” Tweek summoned all of his courage and met Craig’s confused gaze.

“I think we should break up.”


	2. Spinning Planets [Stan&Craig]

When characters in movies, people on the school corridors or even friends like Clyde had been talking about the way your heart shatters when you’re being broken up with, Craig had always thought it was bullshit.  Hearts couldn’t shatter, they were muscles pumping blood. Sure, they could stop or give out, but shatter?

And yet, when Tweek met his gaze like that with an expression he’d never seen in his green eyes, soft sadness mixed with steely resolution, and said those words, Craig felt his heart fall apart, into a million little pieces. The world around them stopped turning, Craig merely stared at him as if this was all a really, really bad dream.

“What?” He heard himself say, disbelief creeping into his voice as his inner self scrambled to piece together all the shards quickly, as if making it whole again quickly could undo the whole disaster. “Why do you…” His voice was starting to sound off, the dull feeling in his chest had risen to his throat and formed a clump, “Why do you think that?”

 

Tweek was chewing the inside of his mouth bloody and raw as he kept his gaze fixed on Craig’s collar. His resolve would shatter if he met his eyes and saw the hurt there. He could already hear it in his voice, in the way he seemed to be cracking apart. No, no, no, he had to stay strong. For the both of them.

“Because...because it’s not fair. We’ve been together since fourth grade. We...I don’t even know how normal dating goes, because we just got thrown in way too early. Don’t you think so? Didn’t you tell me last week you’ve never flirted with anyone, ever? Well, I think we’ve...we’ve gone on for long enough. I wanna know how it feels, Craig. I wanna know how it feels to just...like someone because I decide to, no other reason. And you deserve that freedom too.”

 

Craig swallowed, but the lump didn’t go away. He looked at Tweek, tried to find something in his face, something that told him it was just a thing he thought he had to do for Craig, but there was nothing like that to be found.

When realisation that this all was indeed very real flooded into his conscience, his shoulders slumped.

“I deserve this?” He brought out, nothing more than a whisper, before he managed to speak up, if only a little, “Are you ki-kidding me? It  _ hurts _ , Tweek. I want to be with you. I don’t want to flirt with other people, Jesus Christ, I want you.”

Tweek’s words were on an endless echo-loop in his head.  _ Like someone because I decide to.  _ Had he not liked him out of his own volition? The more he thought about it the more it hurt.  He reached out, trying to grab Tweek’s arm, one last time, but his boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, didn’t let him.  Craig couldn’t look at him anymore.  He had to try one last thing.

“Isn’t there something I can do? Anything?”

 

“You’re saying that because you like things comfortable, Craig. I know it hurts now, but it won’t, forever. Look, you...I don’t want to be a dick, but I’ve made up my mind. I can’t be with you like that anymore. I don’t even know if you’re just the best friend I’ve had, or if I really, you know,” he couldn’t say it, so his hands made some motions between the two of them. He still kept at least a pace away from Craig though. He hated this moment, he hated how hurt he sounded. This was for the better, but it was damn hard.

“You need to let me go, Craig. For both of us. Please.”

Tweek bit his lip and hung his head, hoping that it would take the wind out of Craig’s protests.

 

“For both of us?” Craig didn’t feel his hands anymore, he was just cold, everywhere. Tweek’s words cut so deep he had no way of dealing with how unfair it was that he was just assuming it was better for both of them. It wasn’t better for both of them, Craig felt like his chest was being torn open.

“You’re not leaving me a choice, are you?” He said, voice small. Tweek was still not looking at him, but Craig tried to glance at him one more time. Only doing that multiplied the hurt inside of him already and he let his head sink once more.

“Then… then go. I won’t stop you.”

 

Tweek didn’t go, immediately, he watched Craig instead. It hurt him too, to see him like this. Not because they wouldn’t be together anymore. This was Tweek’s idea, after all. But to know Craig felt this afflicted and that he was the cause of it felt awful.

“I can still...give you a ride home.” He offered. There was no bus out here at the stadium, and it was over twenty miles away from South Park. He couldn’t just leave Craig stranded out here by himself, right? Even if a car ride together seemed like a personal hellscape for both of them, right now, when the wound was bleeding and open.

 

“Just go.” Craig blurted out and the hurt spilled out, just a little, until he caught it again and felt worse for it. Getting home didn’t matter anymore, nothing did. At this rate, Craig would just sleep in the locker room and not care about it at all because along with his heart, his world had shattered as well. Tweek wanted to leave, get away from him, so why was he still standing around, unsure of everything? Better for the both of them didn’t look like this, didn’t feel like this.

The situation dragged on endlessly. Tweek was still there.

Craig couldn’t take it anymore and started walking, past him and past his old van, towards the end of the parking lots, but nowhere really. The more steps away from Tweek he took, the more empty he felt. When he heard the familiar noise of the van starting behind him, Craig’s heart bled.  After the van went past him and disappeared in the distance, Craig finally stopped walking and sank down on a pillar marking the end of the parking lot.

Tweek’s van disappeared quickly, leaving behind the only other sign of life in the parking lot. But someone had played spectator to the scene, unintentionally. Stan had no idea what was going on, but when he saw Tweek and Craig argue, he’d moulded himself into the entrance to the stadium. It felt hideously inappropriate to intrude by walking past and he had hoped they’d just take their fight into the old volkswagen van (actually a mini-bus) so that Stan could get to his car.

They did not.

Stan had a good notion of what had gone down, and he saw Craig slump over on a pillar. Craig didn’t have a car, he usually got rides here with Clyde and was picked up by his boyfriend, but the taillights of the mini-bus winked around the bend of the street without a sign of return. Oh man. That wasn’t a good sign. They must have had some serious issue if Tweek was stranding Craig out here, alone.

Stan was no stranger to fighting couples, but this was the first time he’d actually seen the school’s favorite couple argue at all. His stomach curled, soured. It was too familiar and man, he’d never been struck by pity for Craig Tucker before. He made his way over to his car, but stopped halfway, glancing at Craig. The guy wasn’t moving at all, wasn’t on his phone or anything at all. The parking lot’s lights flickered on with the last bits of daylight fading away. Stan got into his car, but he didn’t go far. It was a very quick decision, really, once he’d started the engine, to pull up next to the pillar. He leaned over to push the passenger door open.

“Get in, Tucker.”

Better not to ask him how he was. He could only hope that Craig would accept the help.

 

Startled from the sudden order directed at him, Craig looked up. He hadn’t been crying, but he sure as hell felt like it.Getting up was harder than he thought, his body felt numb and his mind couldn’t quite wrap itself around what had just happened. Following orders barked by his team captain was a thing Craig did on a regular basis though, it was something he did from muscle memory, it didn’t require him to think and he was grateful for it. He sunk into the passenger seat and managed to close the door.

Craig felt like if he said anything right now, he was going to start bawling his eyes out and he couldn’t do that in front of Marsh, now could he?

 

Stan didn’t say anything when Craig got in and closed the door. He just pulled out of the parking lot and turned up the radio, which was playing something electronic and brainless. He would have said some words of comfort, but the silence was better. Craig was clearly having relationship problems of epic proportions and not only was Stan familiar with this sensation, he was also the worst person to give advice on such a situation. All of Stan’s relationships ended poorly, not just the one with Wendy.

If Craig wanted to talk, he’d listen. If he didn’t, that was okay too. Stan was just too soft, and maybe it was because they got along now and played on the same team that he felt responsible.

He didn’t drive straight to South Park, though, instead stopping off at a drive-thru KFC, the one that Cartman worked part-time at. Luckily though, not tonight, because Stan got his two buckets of unmolested chicken as well as potatoes, gravy and cherry coke. His usual treat after a good practice. It wasn’t until South Park’s crooked town limit sign cropped up that Stan spoke.

“Shouldn’t eat all this chicken alone.”

 

It was the first thing Stan had said since ordering at KFC and Craig had been peering out of the window, mind still back at the stadium, Tweek repeating his words infinitely in his head. He didn’t understand why, even though his ex-boyfriend had told him why. It just didn’t seem like the truth, it was so far away from what Craig thought to be reality, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Thinking about it didn’t help, so he wasn’t annoyed when Marsh ripped him out of his brooding.

“Cause you’ll totally end up fat.” Craig murmured, but the joke was lost in the way his voice sounded broken and small still.

Was Marsh inviting him?

 

“I will. I’ll give Cartman a run for his money,” Stan was careful about his enthusiasm. He didn’t want to crowd Craig, he just wanted him to know that he was here for him. They weren’t that close in terms of friendship, but Stan was right there, and he knew what was going on.

Sort of.

“You’d do me a favor if you manage like, three pieces. More, if you’ve got the guts for it.” A guy like Craig could easily demolish an entire bucket by himself, but Stan knew he definitely wasn’t hungry if he was as heartbroken as he looked.

 

He was definitely inviting him. And also being oddly nice about it. Craig looked over at him, mustered him, tried to find something in his face.  But Marsh wasn’t pitying him with came as a surprise. There was just slight worry and the notion that he knew exactly how bad Craig must feel.  Huh.

Craig didn’t really feel like eating, but something about the fact that Marsh knew how he felt made him seem like better company than his empty room at home.

“Can’t let you get fat, huh. Coach would kick my ass.” He still spoke more slowly than usual, but at least it didn’t sound so crackly anymore. Crying could wait until he was back home in his bed later. Hanging out with Marsh would make him think about other things.

 

Or so he thought.

 

They ate the KFC in Marsh’s room, Craig managed a whole of two pieces and some potatoes with gravy. It wasn’t like he felt stuffed, he just couldn’t eat anymore and got up to wash his hands. When he saw his own face in the Marshs’ bathroom mirror, Craig stopped right where he was and stared at himself. He looked like shit.

The last time he’d seen himself in the mirror, the world had still been okay. Heck, just one hour ago the world had still been okay and now it just wasn’t.

Craig washed his hands, forgotten the fact that he’d just washed them a moment ago and then he just continued to let the water run over his head before he finally turned it off and slumped down to sit beneath the sink. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and there was absolutely nothing in this world that would stop them. Craig wasn’t someone who cried often, the last time had been three years ago when Stripe #9 had died, but even that had just been three or four tears and not the open floodgate kinda thing that was happening to his eyes right now.

Tweek was gone, wasn’t his anymore. Never would they lay in Craig’s bed again and look at the glow stars he still had on his ceiling, never would he see Tweek’s little smile when he held his guinea pigs, never would they kiss again and silently agree on being each other’s.

Craig lost track of time, he had pulled his legs close to his body, arms around them, forehead on his knees, the fabric of his jogging pants wet where he was soundlessly crying on them.

 

Stan didn’t think anything of Craig going to the bathroom. He’d eaten a little chicken, which was good, but he’d done it with that muted shock and horror that trauma victims on TV acted under. Ten minutes passed. Stan hit pause on his show, getting up and padding out into the hallway. The bathroom door was still closed. It was a good thing that his parents and Shelly were out tonight, or else someone might have banged on the door and demanded access. Stan knocked gently. The door wasn’t locked, so Craig wasn’t using the toilet or anything, which made him assume it was safe to come in.

“Tucker? Did you drown in the sink?”

He shouldn’t have, he knew that as soon as he saw his unintentional guest, curled up in a pathetic package of limbs and muscles, sobbing his guts out. Stan’s heart crumbled at the sight of Craig. So it had been a breakup fight, after all. He couldn’t think of anything else that would destroy a guy like this.

He didn’t say anything else, just squatting down in front of Craig, hands hovering inches from his arms. Stan wanted to offer him comfort, he really did, but he had no idea what was okay to do. If this had been Kyle, or Kenny, he’d know, immediately, but he had no earthly clue as to what Craig Tucker needed.

He settled on doing what he himself would want and pulled the bundle (large as it was) into his arms.

 

Even when Marsh came in, Craig couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even stop when Marsh hugged him, pulled him against him, but Craig couldn’t care less either right now.

It hurt too much for him to consider whether it was good or bad that Stan Marsh bore witness to him sobbing into his shoulder. They stayed like this for what felt like forever, Craig leaned against him (and here it came in handily that Marsh played football too because otherwise there was no way he handled a guy weighing 220 pounds without an issue). Craig was the first one to talk.

“‘Better for both of us’...” Craig repeated what Tweek had said. Doing so made something in his stomach curl, as if it had decided it didn’t want the chicken anymore. He forced the sensation away, “Why can he just decide that? ‘s not f-fucking f-fair.”  The hiccups didn’t help to make him sound any better.

 

Stan couldn’t put those words into context from what Craig said, but from the look of him and the memory of the argument earlier, it was fairly obvious that it had all been Tweek’s idea, rather than his. Stan’s arms wrapped more tightly around Craig, bringing him in closer. It didn’t matter that his shirt was being soaked by Craig’s tears and that Stan’s nose was kind of buried in his hair. Craig needed someone here, right now, and Stan was all that the world had to offer.

“No, it’s not. It’s fucking awful,” he breathed deeply, trying not to get angry on his teammate’s behalf. He wasn’t involved in this, he just happened to be the only guy that was witnessing Tucker’s meltdown. He’d never speak of this, to anyone, he already knew that. “You don’t have to tell me more, if you don’t want to. But if you need to curse that little bitch out of existence, have at it, Tucker. I got you.”

 

“I’m good.”

He really wasn’t, but he didn’t feel like cursing Tweek would help him at all. More the opposite, really. Oddly enough, what he needed was here, something or rather someone to tell him that the world wasn’t ending, it was just a chapter closing. He couldn’t tell Marsh to just hold him, that wasn’t how they worked, but he could wrap his arms around him and keep his face pressed against his shoulder. After another half of an eternity, Craig spoke again. It was really just a tiny word, but it sounded way more emotional than what he usually sounded like.

“Thanks, Stan.”

 

Stan just shook his head against Craig, keeping him as close as the other would allow. He wasn’t doing anything special to soothe him, he wasn’t even offering words of encouragement or healing. All he could do was hold Craig and let him know that he was not alone. Even if getting your heart broken was the worst feeling in the world, it happened all the time. Stan knew. 

“It’s okay. You can stay overnight if you want. My parents won’t care.”

He’d drive Craig home if he didn’t want to stay, but Stan doubted that Craig wanted to be around anyone any time soon.


	3. Whatever it Takes [Stan&Craig]

Ending up in Stan Marsh’s bed, with both arms wrapped around him and Craig’s face pressed into him was something Craig never thought would happen, ever. Then again, Tweek breaking up with him wasn’t something he thought could ever happen either and here he was, heartbroken and freshly single.

Marsh didn’t speak much, which was good. He just held him and oddly enough, that was exactly what Craig needed. Knowing that Marsh was there, that at least the part of Craig’s world that included him would go on, had a strangely calming effect on him. He’d just be alone on the weekends, pragmatically seen. Everything else, the entire weeks that lay ahead of him, he could fill with pointless noise and people. He didn't need to have any moments more of quiet. Those were just opportunities for breakdowns.

Some time during the night, Craig finally fell asleep, bunched awkwardly against his football captain, eyes puffy and throat dry.

 

Stan could think of worse things to do than be good company to a guy with a freshly broken heart. Craig was asleep now, in his arms, head cushioned on Stan’s shoulder. It wasn’t something Stan had imagined, ever, and the only man in his bed had been Kyle. When they were eight. This though, this was not that different. Craig needed a friend, badly, and Stan had stepped up.

He didn’t care that his arm would be dead by morning, or that he’d probably end up spooning or something with a dude. Craig was heavy and finally asleep and Stan had spent hours just stroking his back and holding him. It was only natural for him to nod off with his nose nuzzled into Craig’s hair. 

 

Surprisingly, Craig slept better than his state before falling asleep would have suggested. The night was short and uneventful and over before he even realized it. Aside from some trippy dreams that involved chasing a twitching ball, he slept pretty soundly. He never caught that ball and maybe it was for the best, Craig had a feeling it would have patronised him before cleaving his heart in two, too.

 

When he woke up in the early morning hours, the sun had not yet risen outside, eyes open, he might as well still have been dreaming, though, given where he was. And with whom. Instead of Tweek, Marsh was with him, cuddled into the bed, arms around Craig like they belonged together. For a blissful moment, Craig just stared at him and the shape of his face. He had thick black eyebrows and strands of equally black (and choppy) hair falling into his face. His button nose, his surprisingly full lips...Stan was a handsome guy. 

 

Then, unbidden and sudden, reality caught up with him and with it came the painful truth that the guy he had been falling in love with over the past half a year had just broken up with him. His boyfriend since what, fourth grade? Someone he cherished and trusted, someone he'd wake up with on those rare mornings when he slept over and...

 

Craig swallowed and tried to move away from Marsh.

 

Craig’s jostling roused Stan from his sleep, albeit slowly rather than abruptly. His shoulder was entirely numb and he groaned, eyes fluttering open and struggling to keep themselves that way.

"Time is it?” he slurred, not really acknowledging anything that was happening with their bodies, which had curled together in interesting ways, given that the bed was far too small to accommodate two teenage boys of their size. “Craig? You 'kay?”

He didn’t manage more than that but his eyebrows rose in question, even with his eyes closed.

 

Marsh was adorable.

The thought was a small ray of sunshine in Craig’s cold heart. The way his face scrunched up as he was trying his hardest to talk and make sense while doing so, even when half-asleep…Craig reached out to pet his shoulder, lightly.

“Stay asleep, it’s early.”

The sudden urge to say fuck it to reality and kiss him came over Craig, and it was wild enough for him to actually consider it for a moment. Maybe he could help Craig forget… But Marsh wasn’t like that, right?

 

Stan meanwhile was winning a war with his eyelids, forcing them open to owlishly regard Craig in his bed.

“Why’re you up then?” he muttered, reaching for his comfortable, warm companion. He kind of forgot how nice it could be to share a bed. Craig, despite his mass, was not the worse fit he could think of. Red, for example, had been a kicker and a snorer in one. The three months that Stan had been with her had left him with a hard rule about sleepovers. But, of course, those rules only applied to girls.

“Come back. Was comfy.”

 

He was right about that, it had been comfortable. Surprisingly so. Craig looked at him and reached out to tap on his arm, the one he’d been laying on.

“Killed your arm though. The good one even, we need that next match.” The situation was odd. As if the bed was a bubble in which Craig could exist without facing the lonely, cold world outside. He was already sitting up, but still stared at Stan. “You asking me to cuddle you? Pretty homo of you, just saying.” Maybe a joke would wake him up. Maybe he didn’t want Craig to be in his bed anymore then and maybe that would stop the weird urge to lean down and kiss him, squeeze his body to Stan’s as close as possible and see what would happen.

 

“Yeah. You’re a homo, so it’s cool. Come cuddle me and shut up. It’s way too early for your shit.” Stan wasn’t really conscious and he had no plans to be. All he knew was that his arms felt empty and his chest cold and Craig was too far away from him to fix that circumstance. He opened his arms wider in invitation, hoping it would be enough.

 

It was enough. Craig returned to his arms, in a very different way than before. This time, instead of letting Marsh spoon him, he was basically on him, leaning over him, one elbow supporting him one one side, his other hand splayed over Marsh’s chest. Craig turned off his brain and allowed his feelings to take over. They were here, alone, in this bubble and Marsh wanted him. To be here, in his arms, yes, but the point was, the guy wanted him. In some form, and that was all Craig’s empty, broken heart needed.

When he caught Marsh’s lips with his own, it was a soft kiss, a warm press of bodies together and it felt right, in that moment.

 

It was not, in fact, the cuddle Stan had expected. Someone (Craig) was kissing him, someone with soft lips (Craig) and warm breath and desperation. It felt nice. Stan liked morning kisses, they did all sorts of things to his body to make him warm and gooey and feel appreciated. When was the last time that-

Wait.

_Craig._

Craig was kissing him here. Stan’s eyes finally opened and his brain, stupid and sluggish, kicked into gear.

Question raced over his expression, and Stan kissed back with confusion. He wasn’t gay, definitely not as far as Craig knew, but something in him was on fire and his heart was racing against his will.

“Uh...” he was blushing, he could feel it. The unwanted red was racing over his cheeks and made his ears burn and he probably looked as surprised as he felt.

 

Kissing Stan had felt good, like balm on his battered soul. Like an addictive sort of medicine that didn’t really remove the cause but the symptoms. Craig’s ice blue eyes wandered over his face, observed the red spreading for a little while before he gave into the urge and leaned down again.

“You’re so pretty.” Craig whispered against warm lips before capturing them again, hungry for the taste and the sensation of it. This time, he didn’t keep it all that chaste, he deliberately ran his tongue over Stan’s lower lip, asking him for entry. He didn’t want to ravage Marsh, he wanted to have a moment with him, something, that would make him forget and make Marsh feel good in turn.

 

He was pretty? Stan didn’t know why that made him happy. His masculinity didn’t seem to be objecting to the term whatsoever, so it was intact somewhere. The kissing was continuing and Stan should probably be yelling something about being made out with by his gay teammate but it felt so nice. Craig was being gentle and nice and Stan kind of loved kissing anyway, so he didn’t object. He opened up under Craig, tongue moving out to meet with Craig’s after initial hesitation. Once they met, however, and twined together, the floodgate was open. No one made out with Stan Marsh and called it average.

It was an experience to remember.

Stan sighed softly, letting his eyes close again. He could worry about his sexuality later.

 

Craig devoted himself to the kiss, shut his mind off entirely and shifted his weight so he could have more of his body closer to Stan’s. Who was returning the kiss with passion now, just the right kind of enthusiasm to help melting Craig’s brain. Stan’s mouth was warm and his tongue welcoming. It didn’t matter that both of their chins were slightly rough with morning stubble or that the room still smelled like the KFC from the evening before. Craig wanted him as close as possible and so, very soon, his hands were pushing up Stan’s sleeping shirt to get it out of the way so more of their skin would meet.

When he had it worked up until under his arms, he climbed fully on top of him and made a pleased little noise into the kiss when they were finally skin to skin, close enough for Craig to enjoy.

 

Stan wasn’t wasting a moment on thinking about any of this. Craig was touching skin and pressing himself close. Oh, and kissing him with fiery expertise. Stan couldn’t be blamed for his natural reactions, at all. It was to be expected that he popped a chub over this. Who the fuck wouldn’t?

Craig was...rebounding. Really hard. Stan knew that, somewhere under the layers of sluggish warmth. Stan didn’t mind. Right? He...had he helped Craig in hope of this? Had he secretly hoped Craig would do this?

No way. No, Stan couldn’t have predicted any of this. Except that it was exactly what Stan would have done. Get your mind off of your broken heart by getting off with someone. Craig needed this. Stan didn’t mind. Not now. Not yet.

 

It wasn’t long before the rest of their clothing (Stan’s loose pyjama pants and Craig’s boxers) were in the way. With little regard to the situation, Craig continued the kiss, running his hand along Stan’s side and down to his hips and back up again, until at some point he grabbed his hips hard and pulled him up against him. The following moan Craig gave into the kiss felt like he’d needed this all along. They were both hard, he could feel Marsh’s dick pressed against his thigh.

 

Stan didn’t mind not thinking about what they were doing. All he could feel drive him on was the incessant need to touch and feel and be wanted. Craig felt like he wanted him more than anyone he had in recent memory.

He did his best to keep the kiss interesting, but he really couldn’t keep his his hands still anymore. Stan ran his hands over Craig’s shoulders, arms and waist. He was so heavy, it was amazing. The feeling of being somewhat crushed beneath another guy was actually exhilarating. Stan sucked in a breath and pressed his hips up in a lazy roll.

 

Craig broke the kiss, but kept his eyes closed, forehead pressed against Stan’s. He rolled his hips as well, meeting Stan half-way, gasping as his own dick finally got some much needed friction. There was lotion on the nightstand somewhere, he’d seen it earlier. First though, they needed to get off the remaining clothing. Craig pulled and wiggled until both their pants were barely over their ass, his was still stuck on one cheek, but it didn’t matter actually because once he had some of the damned lotion in his hand and closed it around both of their dicks, Craig was in heaven.

 

God, yes. Stan didn’t care if it was gay or straight and just a rebound thing. His dick was being palmed, and that was something he liked, regardless of whom he was with. Craig felt good against him and Stan was moaning quietly all too soon, trying to drown most of it in Craig’s mouth, but failing miserably. He brought up one of his hands to bite into, blue eyes cloudy with lust as he stared up at Craig. Yeah, this was a way to spend a morning, alright.

 

Craig leaned down to kiss the hand and nudge it away, desperate to hear Stan’s noises, however quiet they may be. He needed to hear that Stan wanted him, though he could see it in his eyes already.

Stan’s body was decidedly not Tweek’s, he was broader and more muscular and smelled completely different. It was good regardless, the pure, raw thrill of getting off with someone, looking into a pretty guy’s face as he worked both of them up towards their release. 

They didn’t speak, only made quiet noises, little muffled moans and gasps and the occasional little creak of the bed when Craig thrust his hips forward and into his own hand too hard. Stan did him the favor of letting him hear all of his little gasps and sighs, but he couldn’t keep this up for long. Since Craig was the adventurous one to have gotten the lotion involved, Stan didn’t feel it necessary to warn him when he came, most of his morning load ending up smeared on his own stomach anyway. His chest still rose and fell rapidly, however, not at all calm after his high (which he’d hit with half a curse from his lips and a moan).

 

Craig followed him soon after, not really ashamed of the fact he just came on his team captain’s abdomen as if it was completely normal, his face pressed into the pillow next to Stan’s head. They both caught their breath afterwards. Craig’s brain rebooted, slowly, but even then, he actively tried to not think about what he’d just done. He managed to pull his shorts back up and get off of Stan without getting in touch with the mess on him, but was nice enough to grab the pack of tissues he’d seen on the nightstand too and throw it at Stan. He felt slightly nauseous. What was he even doing? Pulling Marsh into this? Good fucking job, Tucker, honestly.

Marsh wasn’t even gay! For a straight guy he’d been entirely too turned on, but what if that ruined even more things? Stan had been kind to him and instead of doing the decent thing and saying thanks and leaving, Craig had just jerked both of them off. With one hand.

“Thanks for, uh, letting me stay.” He said and pulled his shirt and hoodie quickly over his head. The clothes were cold, but the dropping feeling inside of his chest was even colder.

 

Stan had numbly wiped at his stomach, kind of fascinated and repulsed in one, without really showing either. He dropped the wad of paper into his trash and sat on his bed, watching Craig get dressed hastily. Clearly, he was in a rush to leave. It wasn’t like Stan wanted to discuss what had just happened, but he also didn’t want to just let Craig run off.

He got up, still just in shorts (he’d go take a shower anyway) and reached out for Craig, touching his arm.

“Hey, any time, okay? I...I’m no stranger to dealing with a fucked up heart, Tucker. I’m...here for you.”

Maybe not to jerk off, though, they definitely should not repeat that experience.

 

Craig turned, quickly, at that. For some reason, Marsh’s words burst the bubble entirely and that had the lump in his throat return. He croaked out another little thanks and then left the room and the house soon after.

Now he had all weekend for two things to chew on when he was home alone, fucking _great_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Craig makes solid life choices, 10/10


	4. Cheap Thrills [Stan&Craig]

The next two weeks at school were a living _hell_.

On Monday, Craig managed to avoid his ex entirely thanks to different classes, but on Tuesday the rumors started when they sat apart from each other in English Lit. On Wednesday, the whole school knew and when Craig didn’t get questioning looks, he got pity. It didn’t help to deal with it at all.  The following week was basically Thursday and Friday in an endless loop. Questions, pity, questions, pity. Whispers on the corridors all around him.

Football practice after school helped, somewhat. Craig threw himself into the tasks coach gave them with double the usual effort and it felt good to be completely exhausted, so drained afterwards that all he could do was lay around at home, listen to music or some brainless TV show and not think at all.

Practice on Friday ended like it had two weeks before, on Day Zero as Craig had named it, with him and Marsh alone in the locker room, the last ones to finish, both because they’d given it their all.

 

Time to judge the past two weeks.   
Craig thought he was dealing with it better now. He hadn’t cried since the Monday after and hadn’t felt the need to cry since Wednesday morning last week. Come Thursday, things had kind of looked up with one little down when he, inevitably, saw Tweek in Spanish class.

During the following week, his feelings for his ex seemed to have changed, too. Sure, there was still the big hole in his heart where Tweek had been, but the freezing cold had turned into burning anger. Which he didn’t take out on Tweek, he took it out during practise, he would take it out during the game on Saturday.

 

It wasn’t fair. In fact, it was highly unfair of Tweek to just assume, patronize, and say that it would be better for the both of them. Yeah, he had been his boyfriend, but that didn’t give him the right to just make Craig’s choices for him!

And then there was the whole thing of Tweek telling him he wasn’t sure if he was even in love with him. Had ever been.

That hurt like a bitch, but Craig kind of,  _ kind of _ , got it. Half a year ago, he’d probably not been so down about this whole thing because half a year ago, he’d been the same. Tweek had been his very best friend. Kind of like Broflovski and Marsh, if you thought about it, just with less bro and dude and more honey and baby.

But half a year ago, Craig had somehow started to feel more for Tweek, in a really romantic way that was as cheesy as it sounded.

He’d taken to all sorts of romance habits, he brought Tweek little gifts and felt mushy when he earned a little smile for it, he took him out on real dates and even started to give him blowjobs.

Yeah, Craig Tucker had been falling in love, he knew that now, but it was all over. And Tweek probably had never felt like that, even with all the romancing. It hurt, but Craig finally had come to the conclusion he could just live through it. Maybe the pain would go away one day.

 

Marsh was scribbling something in his notebook again. Marsh, who had been nice to Craig even though he had no reason to, who had fed him KFC, held him when he cried and had even let him use him for rebound purposes. Craig found he was too good a guy for that and had stayed away from him despite his offer. Now though, Clyde was gone and so was Token and just about everyone else and Marsh was his only way to get home by car.

When they were done showering and getting dressed again, Craig spoke casually.

“You think you can take me to South Park? Promise I won’t start bawling again. That’s done.”

 

Craig had begun to very consciously exist on Stan’s periphery. Two weeks after getting his heart broken and he still hadn’t moved forward. At all. That’s how Stan knew it was serious. Sure, Craig showed up to school, tended to his duties, hung out with his friends, but he was still hurting. Hard. Stan began to watch him. During class. At lunch. Craig was an island unto himself, untouched by those around him. No one knew how hard the breakup had hit him, that much was clear.

Stan knew. But then again, he’d been there for the direct aftermath. And thinking about it made Stan uncomfortably hot. It...had been a very gay kind of immediate rebound, that Saturday morning. And Stan didn’t feel at all grossed out by it, which lead to an inordinate amount of laying in bed and contemplating life instead of playing his usual regime of games at night.

It was football practice where Stan got to forget himself and his questioning. He couldn’t observe Craig’s heartbreak either, because he was focused on the game as long as they were out on the field.

The locker room was a different story. Craig’s voice took Stan away from his notebook and he looked up at his tentative new buddy.

“Yeah, sure, I can give you a ride. And I don’t mind the crying, dude, it’s better to let it out than lock it in. That shit messes with your head.”

 

Usually, Craig would’ve retorted with a snarky comment, but Marsh was right. It did mess with his head and crying, as unmanly as he thought it to be, had helped with letting his emotions go.

Not that he needed to show them to any other people, no, that was indeed done. He wasn’t looking for a shoulder to cry on, he was just looking for a way to actually get home.

“Sounds like you know.”

The comment wasn’t underhanded, it was just a statement. Stan probably did know, considering the amount of times he got with someone and then broke up. Just that it usually seemed like he was the one to break up, at least with the girls that weren’t named Wendy Testaburger.

Craig didn’t really want to talk about heartbreak and things though. They had a match ahead and some sort of plan had been forming in his head.

Maybe they could develop some sort of… synergy. Symbiosis even. Marsh was always alone, just him and his notepad, once the coach had left him to do his job. Every single player of the team trusted in their captain’s talent, little regard for the fact that they put even more pressure on Marsh’s broad shoulders. Craig had observed it closely during the time he and Marsh had been ordered into couple therapy by Mason himself.

 

Marsh was basically carrying all of them at this point and talking about unfair things in life, Craig didn’t find that fair either. Perhaps they could profit from each other. Perhaps Craig could be the guy Marsh bounced his genius ideas off of and Craig… Craig wouldn’t have to be alone in his room all evening and think unnecessary thoughts. He would be distracted and Marsh wouldn’t be alone.

His feet had carried him over to Marsh. Craig was already wearing his pants, but was still toweling his hair dry with one hand as he reached for the notebook with the other.

Marsh looked at him as if he had touched his ass, not his notebook. Unfazed, Craig looked at the squiggly, almost unreadable handwriting inside, found tons of sketches of positions and notes and exclamation marks, nothing that made too much sense to him.

“This how you do it? Does this help you keep calm? Knowing you got all this shit in your little book?”

 

Stan was tense the moment the notebook left his hands. It wasn’t as if Craig had grabbed his ass, this was more like he took Stan’s pulsing heart into his hand, without regard for its precious nature.

Still, he was his teammate and he wouldn’t be out to hurt their captain or his strategies, no matter what kind of asshole he was.

“That and bottle of vodka, yeah.”

It was only half a lie. Pressure was both motivator and kryptonite to Stan, and to know everyone’s hopes and dreams rode on his shoulders didn’t make anything easy. If he wasn’t being pulled through school by the preferential treatment football gave him, he would have failed all of his classes. There was no room for anything but football in his life.

“Maybe a couple of advils, if I’m feeling frisky.”

 

Craig’s eyes wandered to Marsh’s face looking up at him. He was still as pretty as he had been two weeks ago. Thinking that was odd, so Craig’s gaze wandered back to the book.

“People got it all wrong about you. Think you get it all handed to you. Walk in the park for Marsh, stuff like that.”

Craig pulled the towel off of his head and slung it over his shoulder, eyes now trained on Marsh again.

"Must be pretty lonely in the park. I sort of know what that feels like, now.”

 

What was this? Was Craig tired of being pitied? Did he think throwing a pity party for his quarterback was the answer? Stan could only stare at him in question and wait, but he didn’t get any unprompted answers. Craig was being social, but it was still like pulling teeth.

“I don’t think that’s the same park, Tucker,” there was an enormous difference between getting dumped and being the star captain of the team.

But hey, Stan wasn’t a dick and he didn’t want Craig to get the wrong impression, either.

“They both suck, though.”

 

Craig shrugged. Stan was right, it was probably an idiotic angle to look at it. Didn’t matter though, he’d just have to be more direct at bringing his point across.

“What I’m trying to say is I’d like to return the offer. I’m here for you.”

He returned to his bag and fished a freshly washed shirt out only to pull it on immediately afterwards. Wet strands of his hair were still hanging into his face that he combed back with his fingers.

A little hairspray and that was usually enough to make half the school swoon. Not that he cared, now even less than before. Nothing mattered now, except football.

 

Stan watched him with words lodged in his throat. Here for...him? Did Stan look like he recently broke up? Did Craig mean anything by that whole point about Stan being the quarterback who had to work hard for his fame and glory?

Either way, it was an offer, wasn’t it. An offer for company, at the very least.

“You know what would really help? If you could come watch replays with me.” They could get some sort of greasy food to ease the pain of sitting through hours of football. Stan usually did it alone, but god, it would feel so much better to have a second opinion on his evaluations.

 

Craig looked at him again. His face didn’t change much, he looked neutral, except for the tiny quirk of his lips. The plan was working after all.

He nodded.

  
“Sure.”

 

Alright, maybe he hadn’t planned on Stan actually taking him up on that offer. It was just supposed to be some kind of gesture, not really a chance to merge their lives together. Craig wasn't looking for a new friend, but here he was anyway.

Stan Marsh’s world turned out to revolve even more around football than Craig’s did and that shouldn’t have been surprising, given that he was hyped as Colorado’s next star quarterback, but it was. Maybe even because of his status, because as were most other people, Craig had been partially caught in the illusion that things just came to Marsh and he didn’t have to do anything for it.

Much, much the opposite.

The following weeks, Craig spent hours and hours at Marsh’s place, with entirely unhealthy amounts of pizza, burgers and other greasy snacks shared between them as they watched replay after replay. And Marsh worked hard, every day, even after practice or workout, his day didn’t end, he memorized strategies and thought of counters, all for the team.

It became a regular thing between them. Marsh took him home after practice and Craig, if he left, left late in the evening only to go to sleep for a few hours before the whole routine began anew. The short bother of actual school, classes and courses, and then the real life: workout, practice, replays.

 

Fuck. They were well on their way to becoming actual friends, and that was a kick in the nuts sort of realization that Craig never thought he'd have. Not about Stan fucking Marsh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorty short bridge chapter


	5. He's so High [Kyle&Tweek]

All of this business revolving around football served a dual purpose; Craig began to be far less available, no longer moping around the streets of South Park and Stan Marsh abandoned his usual circle of friends. Kyle Broflovski was always alone when it came closer to game day.

And that suited Tweek just fine. He’d been noticing Kyle a lot more recently. Had he always been tall and kind of weirdly beautiful? On those rare occasions that his head wasn’t covered, there was this most amazing bunch of red curls that looked soft to the touch and probably smelled amazing. Tweek found himself doodling curly-haired dream figures during class instead of feeling guilt over Craig.

It was...something. Something he couldn’t ignore. And the more alone Broflovski was, the braver Tweek became. Right now, Kyle was at his locker, exchanging one stack of thick books for another.

“Hey, Kyle.” Tweek made it look casual, as if he’d just been strolling by and not specifically waiting to catch Kyle here.

 

The hands reaching for the stack of biology books stilled. Kyle turned his head, weirded out by the unexpected, but not unfamiliar voice behind him. Tweek Tweak stood behind him, looking his usual self, messy blond hair in a tiny ponytail, but most of it sticking out at the sides. He wasn’t someone Kyle talked to often, sure, they had some courses together, but other than that? Tweek had been their replacement-Kenny in fourth grade and Kyle had always liked him, but after he got with Craig, Tweek had turned into Tweek-and-Craig.

Speaking of. They had broken up, the rumor had been confirmed by now. The thought had Kyle eye him a bit more thorough as he tried to find some leftover hurt in him. Was that why he was talking to him? Kyle didn’t know what to do with broken hearts, other than to swallow the feeling, bury it deep inside, never let it see daylight again.

“Hey, Tweek. What’s up, dude?”

It was odd to notice that Tweek was about his height, maybe half an inch taller. It was something Kyle hadn’t paid attention to before, but now that he was facing him, he had no chance but to notice.

 

“I just...” Tweek hadn’t actually thought this part through, at all. He couldn’t just tell Kyle what he wanted, because that hadn’t become clear to his own mind anyway. Had he expected a cold shoulder? Sort of, yes. That was what being with Craig had cemented into his mind. He shook his head, ignored the dire urge to fiddle with the loose threads on his jacket.

“Wanted to see if you had plans or if you maybe want to come listen- no, see m-my band?”

His stutter was under control, his hands clear of fidget toys. This was going well, as long as he didn’t think too hard about Kyle’s pretty eyes.

  
  


Tweek’s band?

The group of young people, more or less talented, around Tweek whose voice, after breaking, turned out to be golden when he sung, Kyle remembered them from the last talent show at school. Okay, mostly Tweek’s voice. Why was he asking him this? They didn’t really have much to do with each other, but then again… maybe this had something to do with his breakup with Craig after all. Craig Tucker, who hung out at the Marshs’ house almost every day now. Kyle wasn’t jealous, okay, maybe a little, but Stan seemed to be happy to have someone for football exchange. Kyle couldn’t offer much help and Stan was constantly tense, especially now, in the latter half of the season.

Tweek probably knew about this and he’d figured out that if Stan hung out with Craig, Kyle was probably free. Between studying for school and preparing for the entry exams at his chosen college (Stanford) as well as writing scholarship applications, Kyle didn’t have much time. But there was something about the way Tweek looked at him that kept him from declining the offer straight away.

“You guys having a gig? When and where?”

Kyle pulled the books out of his locker and clutched them under his arm.

 

“Bar. Pretty small. But a bunch of people from school are going. Uh, not many, it’s on game night.” Tweek shrugged, even though the revelation meant that Kyle would already have to choose him over the town’s favorite pastime of attending the football game and supporting the home team. Or rather, Kyle would have to choose music over sport, to make it less personal. 

“Kenny said he’d bring some fun stuff, we sort of hang out there, after. It’s a small crowd, I promise. Only weird kids.” Tweek evaluated his words and his eye twitched when he realized his mistake, “Not that you’re weird! You’re cool, you’re perfect, Kyle. Ah.”

_ Fuck _ , fuck, this was derailing.

“Here’s the address, seven. I’ll, uh see you. Maybe.”

Tweek managed to escape with his dignity intact. Somewhat.

 

Kyle looked after him and then at the partially crumpled little note in his hand. He didn’t mind Tweek’s odd little tics, that’s how he’d always been and to be fair, it had gotten way better once he hit puberty. The reason for Tweek inviting him still eluded him, but then he remembered the comment about weird kids. Kyle sighed. Despite his efforts to be just a normal guy (he played basketball after all though nobody really cared about that, nor about any other sports than football), the collective school thought him to be a weird kid.

Maybe he just had to accept it. At least Kenny was going to be there and Tweek had a nice voice.

Game night though… Not a deciding match, but he’d have to talk to Stan anyway. His super best friend had said plenty of times Kyle didn’t have to be there every game, but he was anyway, always made room for it in his schedule.

 

With the note still in hand, Kyle went to biology where he slid onto the seat next to his best friend. Stan was completely absorbed by his little notebook and the replay running on his phone. Two days till Saturday and even if it wasn’t deciding anything, there were still points to collect and South Park’s golden boy could not disappoint. 

Kyle pushed his shoulder against Stan’s in a little greeting and waited until he plucked the headphone out of his ear.

“Dude. Hi. You got one second to chat?”

 

“For you? Always.” Stan suppressed a yawn and grinned at Kyle, closing his little book and giving his best friend his full attention. Biology was Stan’s favourite subject, and probably the only one he still paid attention to. Plus, he got to sit with Kyle and spend an hour with him. Especially experiments were the best, as long as his favorite redhead was involved.

“What’s up?”

 

Kyle felt bad when Stan looked at him like that. He missed spending time with his best friend, but their respective lives were draining time and energy and even though they were direct neighbours, especially before games, they didn’t share much more time with each other than the trip to school in Stan’s old jeep and the occasional class. Like biology.

Today they were supposed to continue the mealworm experiment and said creatures were already busy digging through sawdust in the petri dish on the desk.

His eyes wandered to the dish and his hands followed, putting the lid back on.

  
“Uhm, do you… no, wait, dude, sorry. I got invited to, uh, a thing. On Saturday night. Hanging out with some weird kids, I guess I’m a weird kid now, and I kinda wanna go. It’s just that it’s game night and I also wanna see you play. I always see you play. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Dude,” Stan laughed softly as he watched Kyle’s hands fidget with the dish. The mealworm thing was fascinating, but it could wait. Class had barely begun, and hell, Kyle asking him right away meant that he was really, actually concerned about this. Stan ignored the twinge of possessive greed that wanted to forbid Kyle’s other interests. It was the first time his best friend had actually been invited to something that Stan had not. This wasn’t some house party or some brilliant rager. This was...what was it?

“A thing for weird kids? Like an orgy or something?” He didn’t say anything about the game yet. He’d told Kyle a hundred times that he didn’t need to show up to every game. He did anyway and it melted Stan’s soft heart to be greeted by his best friend’s loyalty every single game day.

 

The question earned Stan a soft jab in the ribs. “Do I look like I’m… nevermind.” Kyle had to laugh although it was embarrassing, slightly, considering Stan had had his first time with thirteen and Kyle was still holding his V-card tightly in both hands.

“No, not an orgy. A gig. Tweek said his band is playing and he kinda… invited me, I guess? Kenny’s gonna be there, too. Not that that means anything but hey, at least I know someone.”

 

Kyle waited for Stan’s reaction, observed his best friend closely. If he showed any signs of unwillingness to give his okay to this, Kyle would immediately retract his question.

“Tweek invited you? Personally?” Stan’s eyebrows shot up. There was a small amount of resignation in him about Tweek Tweak, mostly because he had managed to break a heart that Stan was considering to belong to a friend. But that didn’t belong here, and it shouldn’t burden Kyle.

Kyle, who finally had a place and time to show up and be the one everyone wanted, because Stan had no doubt that it would happen if personal invitation was involved.

“Dude, you’ve gotta go. You could get laid.”

 

The comment had Kyle’s ears turn red. “It’s not about that, dude, it’s not like some girl invited me…”

Stan knew his secret, but no one else did. Certainly not Tweek.

“He’s just gathering people for his gig. Because it’s on match day, you see.”

That made a lot of sense and calmed Kyle down. 

“So you think you can bring it home without me cheering my lungs out?” He felt bad about it, still searching for something in Stan’s face to tell him he was just saying things to not be an ass.

 

“Yeah, don’t worry Kyle. I’ve got this,” Stan elbowed him gently, being reassuring (hopefully) and grinning to show Kyle that he was fully approving of this whole idea of Kyle being personally invited by Tweek Tweak to watch him perform. “Just promise me not to turn into a rock n’ roll groupie, alright? Only one of us can be jacking it in San Diego.”

Not that this was anything like that bizarre set of circumstances, but Stan liked to remind Kyle that nothing and no one could stand between them or their copious amount of personal stories and jokes. One night apart wasn’t going to change that.

 

Kyle snorted and leaned against his best friend’s shoulder briefly. “And that’s going to be you for sure. Also I think he’s more the hard rock kinda guy. Metal even.”

It wasn’t really something Kyle listened to all the time, but he also wasn’t particularly against it. The music had him as curious as the entire evening.

“Okay. I’ll tell you how it was after you’ve awoken from your two day slumber after the victory party.”

Kyle grinned widely and pulled the petri dish with mealworms between them.

“Let’s see how many of these babies we have today!”

 

“Yeah, our plentiful brood,” Stan smiled warmly, watching Kyle as the redhead examined the dish and counted worms. 

Kyle was and always had been, the best person in the universe. Stan didn’t know anyone smarter or kinder, but Kyle covered up his best attributes with a fiery, bitchy demeanour that kept him from making friends. He didn’t trust people to be his friends, specifically, and that one, Stan blamed on Eric Cartman and their youth; he’d destroyed the bright and friendly Kyle with one too many ploys to ruin his life. Now, Kyle was focused on school, ignored the outrageous parties Token threw and refused to date, despite the interest that existed (usually from girls outside of Bebe’s social circle, however). Stan was the only bridge Kyle had to the social structures of their school, and it was a substantial one; nothing mattered more than football at Park County High, even if the students from South Park itself were less inclined to fawn over Stan Marsh. The rest of the student body, however, was a different story. They knew nothing of his past or his embarrassments and they seemed eager to make his ego explode. Kyle didn’t even give them the time of day when they bothered Stan in his company. To get to that level of security, to be that at peace with his place in society and how people saw him (as a colossal bitch), Stan admired that. He could never be as strong as his best friend was.

Kyle was talking again, but Stan barely heard him. His mind drifted to Tweek. Who probably had an ulterior motive for inviting Kyle to his seedy bar, but Stan was sure he’d hear about it. Kyle could handle himself, and he didn’t take crap from anyone. He’d be okay.

But just in case, he was going to ask Kenny to keep an eye on any situation developing at this bar. Some phone numbers from the cheer squad would definitely be enough to get Kenny's solemn vow on it.

 


	6. Black Insomnia [Kyle&Tweek]

Game night arrived way too fast. While his family (Sheila and Gerald accompanying a very hyped-up Ike) went to the match, Kyle stayed. Kickoff was at seven and in order to secure good seats, they already had to go earlier than he did.

Kyle had been writing applications all day and had somehow forgotten he should probably think about his looks. Having showered in the morning saved his ass, because he didn’t have to do that right now. Instead, he could briefly put on something not so casual (some more tightly fitting dark red jeans and a black t-shirt that had lost its sleeves when Stan had put on Jersey Shore.

His hair he tamed with some spray (wouldn’t hold long of course, but looked okay for the moment) and that was that.

Ten to seven, Kyle arrived at the bar (Sheila had left him her car, thankfully, though Kyle managed to park the mini-van somewhere out of sight). No one asked for any ID at the door. Inside, it smelled like fog machine and dust, it was dark and some ambient music was playing. Kyle felt a little bit alien until someone grabbed his shoulder and Kenny grinned at him.

He resisted the urge to hug his friend, finally a face he knew, and instead returned the grin.

“You really came! Tweek said he invited you.”

Kenny winked at him saucily as always which Kyle decisively ignored.

“Yeah, where else am I gonna be?” Well, probably at football like everyone else, but Kenny didn’t care so much for South Park’s favorite game. He was still much more into Nascar than anything else. Sports without engines just didn’t grip him the same way.  He looked Kyle up and down.

“Wait, why are you here? It’s game night. Isn’t the squad gonna be missing their cheer captain?” his teasing was gentle, lacked bite.

 

Kyle sighed and rubbed his face. “Look, I… talked to Stan. He’s always on about how I should go out and things and this here, well, kinda seems more chill in a way? You know how I don’t like the big parties and such. Stan’s gonna win this without me, I’m sure.” It didn’t matter what he said, Kyle still felt bad for leaving his super best friend alone. Even if Kyle had no impact on the match, he always thought that if he shouted loud enough, Stan would hear him. Which was bullshit, but that’s how it was. Kenny reminding him where he should be instead made him unsure if he’d taken the right decision.

“You been here before? Looks kinda, uh, grunge-y.”

 

Some goth girls in tiny outfits with frills and lace were sitting at the bar, the dancefloor was more or less empty, but people were lingering around, eyes on each other or on the small stage on the other side of the room. Lights in dimmed colours, blue, purple and red, were flickering over the gathered crowd.  It seemed like all of Park County’s metalheads and goth kids (and adults, mind you) were gathering to watch Tweek’s band.

Of which Kyle didn’t even know the name. Pretty embarrassing.

 

“Yeah, I swing by here every two weeks. Move some product, you know how it goes.” Kenny grinned, wide enough to show the gap where he should have a solid row of teeth. He’d lost it in a fight last year and the McCormicks never managed to send him to a dentist for it, but Kenny took it in stride, the way he always did. Together with his dirty, blond hair it gave him a rogue-ish charm.

“You should probably go say hi to the band. They’re over there, VIP section,” Kenny nodded his head at a set of stairs that seemed to lead to an upper level.

 

Kenny was right, Tweek had invited him here after all. Kyle nodded. “I’ll be right back, dude.”

He made his way over to the set of stairs, happy to leave the ground floor behind with all its odd smells and weird people. He didn’t feel quite right here and he probably didn’t look right either. It was kind of unfair to Stan, who had freely given up his support and encouraged him to come here, to already think that he’d rather be at the match. That was at least something Kyle knew. Not this where he felt like foreign matter in an alien body.

The stairs ended at a door which said VIP in golden, weathered letters.

Kyle knocked.

 

The door opened rapidly. The letters clinging to the door were more wishful thinking than anything else. Crammed inside of a room was a dresser with a mirror, three couches and a coffee table littered in beer bottles. 

“Yeah?” the guy at the door gave Kyle a once-over. He himself did a good impression of a somewhat sexually ambiguous, dandy vampire, what with a brocade vest over a flouncy shirt, a stylish, dyed fade combed back meticulously.

“Can I help you?”

Somewhere in the background, someone was strumming a guitar and towards the only window of the room, Tweek was warming up with some ridiculous vocal exercises.

 

Kyle stared at the guy for a moment, he somehow had failed to compute that Tweek’s band included more people than just Tweek.

“I’m Kyle. Hi.” He held out a hand. The guy in front of him looked like he fit into this kind of etablishment perfectly. If he turned out to have a coffin to sleep in, Kyle wouldn’t be surprised in the least. Past young Dracula’s shoulder, Kyle could see Tweek by the window. “Just wanted to say hi to Tweek. He invited me and I didn’t tell him if I’d be here… So uh, maybe you can say hi to him from me? When he’s done?”

 

“Oh, hey, you must be  _that_ Kyle.” The ‘vampire’ brightened up immediately, a smile dancing over his expression as he pushed the door open and pulled Kyle into a hug by the outstretched arm. 

“I’m Markus. Come in, come in. Hey Tweek!” Markus let Kyle go, only to shut the door behind him as he whirled around, “Your VIP is here!”

Tweek jumped and choked on a series of ‘o’s as he turned around. Markus’ words also caught the attention of the three other people in the room. Lola didn’t seem at all impressed to see Kyle, just raising an eyebrow at him for his appearance, which hardly matched the mood of the room. Next to her, lounging upside down on the couch, was a another redhead, though his hair was much closer to obnoxious orange than Kyle’s. His preference for green was reflected in the guitar he was lovingly strumming. The entire room had the air of Kenny’s favorite blend, and the source of it was a guy who looked to be at least five years older than everyone else, currently curled up alone on a loveseat, but soon joined by Markus once more.

Tweek rushed over, a delighted little smile on his lips.

“Wow, you actually came.”

 

Kyle tried his best to not seem like a complete loser. He might not care what the collective hivemind thought of him but he wasn’t impervious to being stared at and judged. He was glad when Tweek came over to talk to him. Kyle really had just wanted to say hi and now he was locked in this awkward social situation.

“Yeah. Couldn’t miss out on your invitation. I didn’t wanna interrupt anything, just wanted to say hi and I’m here.”

Somehow, Kyle felt like an idiot for coming up here. What was he even doing? Tweek probably had asked more people than just him to come. He was smiling though, a small, but happy little smile that looked good on his face. Maybe he was happy that his personal invitation tactic had worked at least with him.

His eyes wandered over the couch and stopped on the guy playing with his guitar, upside down. He seemed familiar, but Kyle couldn’t put a name to him.

 

The guitarist gave him a little salute, nodding before he continued playing. No one else in the room seemed nervous at all. Markus already sunk back into conversation with the older man (who could probably have been his father age-wise, but the way their bodies fit together spoke of something else) and Lola flicked through the wilted pages of an old music magazine.

Tweek, however, seemed perfectly enraptured by Kyle’s arrival and hovered before him eagerly.

“Come on, this is uh, everybody in Black Insomnia. You know Lola and Roddy of course, and Markus sort of, though he doesn’t go to our school. And that’s, uh, Jerry,” Tweek made a dismissive gesture, “dunno where he came from. We don’t ask. It’s better that way. You want a drink? Some gras?”

 

Great, at least Kyle had the band name now. He didn’t want to out himself and hence didn’t ask why they were even named like this. The brief introduction to everyone wasn’t really followed by anything, Kyle raised his hand, but only the guy Tweek had called Roddy smiled at him, the rest didn’t even move.

“Thanks, I really don’t wanna keep you from warming up or something, I can go downstairs too and we talk later?”

He really had just wanted to say hi and while Tweek seemed perfectly happy with it, Kyle felt like he shouldn’t have come here.

 

“Sure. Uhm, meet me at the bar.” Tweek sent him off with a smile that bordered on excited.

 

-x-

 

The gig was a noisy affair, but nothing else would adequately represent Black Insomnia. They were, at heart, a metal band and Tweek had been surprised that even their own songs went over well tonight. The crowd had been a little bigger than usual, and most importantly, contained someone he wanted to impress. What Kyle thought of his music, he didn’t know, but he was eager to find out.

Sweaty and high on adrenaline, he made his way to the bar after parting with his band for some well-deserved mingling.

 

For the past hour, Kyle had watched Black Insomnia play and despite the tiny stage and the average quality of their equipment, it had been an experience alright. The music took some getting used to, but what Tweek did with his voice drew Kyle into it pretty quickly. It was only more impressive that he sung his heart out like that and played second guitar while he did so.  Kyle hadn’t been much of a metal fan before, but now he’d definitely ask Tweek if there was a chance for their tracks to ever get on Spotify.

It wasn’t just that his voice was amazing. Tweek radiated a wild sort of energy on stage that was infectious and soon had the whole crowd going, including Kyle. He wasn’t really a dancer or wild headbanger, but he found himself cheering and stomping with the people around him and it didn’t even feel weird.

What did feel weird though, but in a totally exciting way that was entirely new to Kyle, was the wait at the bar. Tweek had said they’re meet there and Kyle had been looking forward to it, a little bit more with every song he sang and every little move he did on stage.

It was a bit like the first time Kyle had drawn on a joint, new, exciting and giving him all sorts of new sensations he hadn’t had before. There was something weirdly taboo about this as well (which was outlandish, he was just going to meet Tweek).

 

When Tweek finally weedled through the crowd, he got lots of people patting his shoulder and trying to chat him up, but Kyle noticed with surprise that he was trying to make good on his promise and ended up right in front of him, without letting himself be distracted. 

Kyle beamed at him. “That was..  _ wow _ . Quite something. Your voice is amazing. And you play guitar like that at the same time? How?”  Tweek’s green eyes were big from so many questions and Kyle realized he sounded like an excited pre-schooler. “Sorry, it’s just… I liked it. Your performance.”

 

Blond hair was sticking to Tweek’s sweaty skin, he radiated heat off of him. Kyle had the odd notion of wanting to know what he smelled like from close up.

“So you liked it. Oh, I’m glad, it’s not...you know, not everyone likes metal,” Tweek talked with his hands more than anything and he waved to the bartender. No, they wouldn’t get served any hard liquor. And if anyone asked, it was rootbeer, bubbling in the two bottles that arrived. Tweek held one out to Kyle.

“I mean, we tried hard rock and punk but then we kept sounding wrong, now I really think we’ve got it down. I...love it. It helps clear my head.” Because screaming your heart out was definitely the answer to Tweek’s nervous energy, as he had discovered about two years ago. Learning guitar and how to sing, well, that wasn’t too difficult.

“Also helps with my spazzing.”

 

“Really? So that’s your secret?” Kyle grinned and took the offered beer, toasting at Tweek. “To the, uh, beast in black?”

When the reference to one of the wilder songs in the set made Tweek smile, Kyle felt an odd little curl somewhere in his chest region and he quickly drank beer to get rid off the notion. “How’d you find all the guys to make a band with? Not the talent show, right? Please tell me it wasn’t during that stupid talent show… Though I liked your duet with Wendy.” Which, incidentally, had been an interpretation of one of Kyle’s favourite songs (Gloria by Laura Branigan because yes, he still liked his cheesy 80's).

“You make it look like you belong up there.” Kyle nodded at the stage.

 

Tweek wasn’t usually prone to blushing, but Kyle was laying it on thickly, which was a surprise. At best, Tweek had thought he’d make some polite comments and quickly say good night. Instead, he seemed perfectly happy to stick around and talk about the night. Sort of. The music part, anyway.

“I really like being on stage. Which sounds crazy, knowing me, but it’s true. The band, hah, the band kind of came together in pieces. Roddy collected them from everywhere. Markus is really nice and Lola probably hates everyone, but we all love the music.” The longer he talked, the more he relaxed. Beer and Kyle’s easy smiles helped too.

 

Oh, yeah, the Roddy guy. Kyle had wanted to ask about him.

"About that dude, the Roddy guy. You said I know him? From where? I mean he seems like someone I know, but I have no idea where I’ve seen him and the name doesn’t tell me anything either.”

He took another sip from the bottle. Tweek and he had moved to the side of the bar, in a ‘quiet’ corner where people weren’t brushing past them every ten seconds.

They were standing close enough for Kyle to feel the heat radiating off of Tweek’s body which oddly enough made his skin tingle. What a weird sensation.

It was surprisingly easy to just stand and chat with Tweek, Kyle wasn’t usually someone for smalltalk.

 

“What, really? Huh. I would have thought you’d recognize him. Sort of. You did use to call him New Kid and Fartlord, I think. We all did. He has a gas problem. IBS.” Tweek laughed. Not because it was funny that his lead guitarist let rip some of the most devastating toots known to man, but because Kyle had possibly forgotten the kid that used to fart on all of them as a means of communication.

Really, Roddy didn’t turn out so bad and his sweet personality made up for the smell.

Kyle’s eyes went wide.

“ _ That _ is Fartlord?”

 

Over on the couch, Roddy seemed to be unfazed by his lengthy upside-down stay that would probably make blood collect in his brain. He was happily strumming on his guitar. The longer he looked at him though, the more clear the resemblance became. The orange hair, the freckles everywhere (Kyle’s summer freckles were nothing at all against this), he could remember the days when they ruled Zaron or when the Farting Vigilante saved all of South Park.

If he pictured the guy with a green bra strapped to his head and the equally green clothing that included a few crass streaks of bright pink, he could definitely see it, yeah. He snorted and looked back at Tweek. “I thought he disappeared and never came back! But here he is, I guess. Weird. But good weird.”

Kyle had some more beer then looked around. “You play a lot around here? People seem to love you guys.”

 

“Well, we’re kind of the only band in town, so, yeah, we play now and then.” Tweek fiddled with the label on the bottle, peeling it off in uneven, little strips. He generally kept his hands busy in order to focus his nervous energy when he wasn’t belting it out on stage, but Kyle made him...more nervous? Sort of. Tweek didn’t really look too deeply into why Kyle Broflovski was making flustered (somewhat), instead, he tried to hold onto the urge to flirt with him. Subtly. Maybe.

“I’m really glad you came here tonight. I’ve been meaning to hang out with you.”

 

That surprised Kyle more than the earlier revelation of Roddy being Fartlord had. Tweek had wanted to hang out with him? But why hadn’t he then?   
He almost asked, but then remembered that one Craig Tucker would have had ever reason to be jealous if his boyfriend just randomly started hanging out with another guy. It wouldn’t even matter then if Kyle liked guys or not, he could kind of understand.  Okay, perhaps it was a little like what was happening with Craig and Stan at the moment. Kyle wasn’t dating Stan, but they had been close, too, and now, Craig was out there, playing with Stan and Kyle was here, chatting with his ex-boyfriend. How odd.

He didn’t know where the conversation was going with this, but Kyle liked the comment, it made him happy, so he reacted accordingly.

  
“Yeah, thanks for the invitation. I guess I wanted to see you. Sing, I mean, I really liked your part at the talent show.” He said and wondered why he was getting flustered under Tweek’s curious gaze focused on him.

 

“Hah, the talent show,” Tweek folded a piece of the label he’d pulled off into a tiny little square. Kyle was nice to talk to, and this was going much better than he anticipated. Kyle was still here, after all.

“It kind of gave me the idea. So...do you maybe wanna join us upstairs? It’s more comfortable.”

Tweek wondered if he was being too blunt, but it was the truth. There were couches upstairs, and their own little party that was entirely private. It didn’t mean that Tweek was asking Kyle to come join him for sex. Or did it sound too much like that? Fuck, he wasn’t trying to scare him off!

“With the band. It’s not just me. That would be weird. Hah. You wanna?”

Little did Tweek know that Kyle actually felt more uncomfortable around the band than around Tweek alone.

 

“I, uh… Do you think that’s okay with them? Kinda felt like I was intruding earlier. Dunno.” That was probably a dumb question to ask, since Tweek had invited him already which meant he didn’t see a problem.

Kyle gulped down the last of his beer and put the bottle on the counter. Maybe he should go home. But then he looked at Tweek who was regarding him with this hope in his eyes and that had him kind of intrigued. What exactly did he want with him?

 

Tweek’s brows drew together. Okay, that blatant proposition clearly hadn’t made it through to Kyle’s mind. Maybe he was overestimating this situation. Maybe he needed to be smoother. How would Craig handle this? No, wait, that was a terrible idea. Craig would just drag Kyle upstairs and make out with him, then shrug and flip him off when he was questioned. That was an entirely unique approach that only worked for Tweek’s ex. Whom he was not thinking of anymore.   Maybe Clyde’s approach? Did boys like to be oggled and fawned over? Tweek grimaced. No, that was a bad call too.  Maybe he should think of actual, successful gays around him as role models. He could practically feel the spirit of Roddy guide him to put a hand on Kyle’s arm, gently.

“They’re always like that. Don’t worry about it. I just want to know you again, you know? We kind of...lost touch with each other.”

 

Kyle had been watching something on Tweek’s face play out, something that had him make faces and that he didn’t know about, couldn’t possibly imagine. It was kind of adorable. When Tweek put a hand on his arm, warm and gentle and dry despite him still being a bit sweaty from the earlier performance, Kyle was already won over. His words only cemented the decision.

“Okay. Yeah, I always thought it was kinda stupid we lost contact. You know, I always kinda wanted to hatch those frog eggs with you that we found at the pond.” Stan wasn’t too big of a frog fan and wasn’t really the kinda guy to play house with anyway. Not that Kyle wanted to play house, not at all!

He followed Tweek towards the stairs, his skin tingling where Tweek’s hand had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is how Tweek's band (named after a coffee blend, we're so original) sounds:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrEzOBh-dAg


	7. Thunder [Stan&Craig]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my love affair with football stan just won't end

Nine seconds that Marsh had left, Craig could see the big red numbers on the other side of the stadium between the guys of the defensive line in front of him. Nine seconds plus the eleven total they had to complete the match. The Park County Lions were down five points, but they had enough time for a complete play and not just a Hail Mary. Or rather, Craig was pretty sure coach would go for the HM, but Stan wouldn’t. That was just not how the Lions’ QB ticked. Stan wanted this to be securely in his hands and Craig had almost heard Mason flipping out in Marsh’s ears when he’d called the trick play earlier. Craig had one job. Keep the line together until his teammates had completed the play. Clyde was getting ready at the end of the line. He and Stan had practised this countless of times. If he shone now, he’d be drowning in pussy later on, no doubt.

 

The thought of pussy was as far from Stan’s mind as the scolding words that Mason was blistering his ear with. He didn’t even bother to argue with his coach. This was his game, he was in control and it was his call to make, his move on the board. A Hail Mary was too risky. They could win this, if this worked. The team was tense around him, but confident. All of them had their heads in the game and Stan could deal with the lowkey bout of intense pride for all of them later, when his head wasn’t full of replays and notes made on their opponents.  His hands rested under Craig, brushing against the muddied white of his pants. Alright. He could do this. He trusted Clyde to find him. He trusted Craig to make room. He trusted himself to run like hell was on his heels. 

“Blue Falcon, Thirty Five! Hut...hut...hike!”

 

The call only underlined that there were no changes to the play called earlier. Craig snapped the ball and threw himself forward into his counterpart in the other team’s defensive line.

Keep them away from the guys behind him for as long as possible. Clyde had been moving left and right, on his tiptoes, to confuse the opponent, but once the play was on, he sprinted over while Jake caught Craig’s throw. The ball found its way into Clyde’s arms, safely, as he arrived at their running back’s position. Just a second later, Clyde had found Stan, completely open and in the end zone towards his right. He pulled his arm back and threw, the ball zipping through the air towards Marsh.

The Hounds’ cornerback and safety closest were on their way, but definitely too late.

 

The ball barrelled into his arms safely and Stan held onto it as tightly as if it was his damn baby, if babies were made of leather and hard. Sort of. Bad analogy. He didn’t have to run, he was already in the end zone, but that wasn’t what he was bracing for. The cornerback ploughed into him like an angry bull, colliding not only with Stan but with the safety who’d been trying to do something about the pass. Neither of them managed to intercept or make Stan drop the baby, so to say, though they did manage to make him crash to the floor, their bodies tangled up on top of him. Didn’t matter. The touchdown was complete and the refs were calling it. Stan couldn’t breathe for a long second, winded from the impact, mind grasping the prospect that he’d done the right thing. This time, Mason’s screams would be victory screeching at best.

His ears rang with the cheers, but most importantly the blaring, tinny echo of the stadium’s giant screen.

 

“ _ Touchdown! _ ”

As soon as the Hounds players had rolled off of Stan, the Lions’ own players reached their quarterback, Token at first, followed by Jake, Clyde and the whole of their offensive.

_ “Quarterback Stan Marsh scores the winning touchdown, unbelievable!” _

 

The cheering coming from the Lions’ fans was deafening, but the players themselves were all busy cuddling Stan, patting his back and his head as they waved and slowly moved him off the field as a whole conglomerate, victory in their entire posture. Clyde got to his QB, wrapped his arm around Stan’s neck and bonked helmets with him, grinning like a cheshire cat.

“That got them good, cap’n. Good fucking job!”

They met up with the rest of the team and more cuddling ensured, even Mason patted Marsh on the back. Craig patiently waited for his turn which came up only when they finally were on their way back towards the locker rooms.

He slung his arm around Stan’s neck and pulled him in close.

“Sweet call, Marsh. Bet that wasn’t Mason’s idea, huh?”

“You damn well know it wasn’t.” Stan laughed, allowing himself to be lead around. He didn’t really feel like undressing and showering. He felt...full of energy, actually. He could very well take a victory lap and jog all the way home to South Park, if he went with just the elated feelings turning his stomach into a happy, bubbly mess.

“I bet you anything, he’s saying right now that it was.” The beaming grin didn’t disappear from Stan’s face. He didn’t mind if Mason painted a picture slightly outside of the truth. They’d won, and he’d lead them there. Everyone loved him tonight. And that was all the prize Stan needed.

 

Craig navigated Marsh to the locker room regardless, even though the guy seemed to be bubbling with energy. He ruffled his hair when he finally let him go, grinning at him. Their intense studying over the past few days had paid off after all. And seeing Marsh happy like this was somehow entirely worth it. Not to speak of the sweet sensation of a deserved victory over their rivals of course.

“Save that energy for the body shots you’re gonna have to take later.” He chuckled because when they entered the locker room, people were already shouting and Token declared (unsurprisingly) his home to be the place for the victory party to happen.

Of course they’d party. Stan knew exactly how things would end up at Token’s house and some part of him craved the depravity that was undoubtedly in store for them. Usually, half the school turned up, invited or not, to the stately home of the Blacks. And then, everything tended to spiral out of control. But among the congratulations, shoulder pats and hair ruffling once his helmet came off, Stan knew something was missing. It ached when his gaze lingered by the door, the spot where Kyle would usually let himself into the room and wait for his best friend. The victory rang a little more hollow, knowing someone that meant so much to him wasn’t here.

It sobered Stan up enough to lose that abundant victory energy and he pulled his filthy jersey off of himself.

“Are the cheerleaders going? I might have to skip town if yes.”

 

When Clyde heard cheerleaders, even if it was across the room, he had to react. “Of course they’re going, Marsh, and you and me both are in for some lovin’ tonight!”  He beamed at his team captain, entirely happy with the fact.

 

Craig followed Marsh’s example of undressing, he really needed to get clean.His dirty equipment was piled into his bag. He wasn’t much of a party guy, but when he looked over at Marsh who seemed to have sobered up remarkably, Craig frowned slightly. When they were walking to the showers together just a few minutes later, Craig elbowed him gently.

“You’re not thinking about skipping the party, huh? You know how they all go overboard when you’re not there to reign them in, can’t let that happen, Marsh.”

 

“Can’t I get a night off from babysitting?” Stan whined at him, looking around at the team. They were in high spirits, as they damn well deserved to be. He didn’t want to be the voice of reason. But if he got shit-faced, anything could happen. And if that involved cheerleaders, Stan knew exactly who he was going to end up in bed with. Wendy got entirely irresistible after a couple beers. Not because she wasn’t already beautiful, but because the alcohol helped Stan forget how many times she’d dumped him.

“Look, bad stuff happens when I get drunk around the cheerleaders. Can’t you just keep an eye on them? You love ruining people’s good times, right?”

 

Craig’s eyebrows wandered up. “You’re really thinking about not going.” He stated, voice not without the slightest hint of surprise. The cheerleader comment had him piece together the reason for that easily.

“Not going to do your job, captain, but I can chaperone you and Testaburger if she’s what you’re afraid of.” The look he received from Stan for that told him he’d hit bullseye without much effort. “I’ll gladly ruin your good time for sure.”

 

“...thank you.” Stan couldn’t even make that sound sarcastic. Chaperoning him was sometimes Kyle’s job, and his best friend always made sure that Stan didn’t regret waking up in the morning after. 

But Kyle wasn’t here, and it felt weird. At least, until Craig offered to, essentially, take his place. It was a surprise, even if they had been getting along well as of late. He might even dare to call Craig a friend. A football friend. His center, the guy he trusted to...no, he wasn’t going to take that thought further. It would end in tears and trustfall exercises.

“Okay. If you go, I’ll go.”


	8. Get Lucky [Stan&Craig]

A promise was a promise and about an hour later they were at the after party, currently in the Blacks’ sun room with the heated pool. Token's house was completely ridiculous and covered every aspect you'd expect from the spoiled lap of luxury. It was also an absolute castle when it came to parties and it wasn't just Token's good looks that kept him as popular as he was. His parents were out of town a lot and so, their home became party central very regularly. Token had the advantage of being able to bribe their housekeeper into cleaning up and keeping quiet too, so these gatherings frequently got out of hand.

 

Craig was chatting with Matt about workout routines, keeping an eye on Marsh now and then who was swarmed by cheerleaders on the other side of the brightly lit pool. They were grabbing at him and undressing (him and themselves) while feeding him some colorful cocktails. Jake was probably going ham at the bar again, only he came up with the rainbow crap the girls loved and that Marsh now had to swallow. An almighty splash drew his attention when Marsh threw one of the girls into the pool and jumped in right after, currently only in his shorts. Craig didn’t think he needed to step in already, he let his teammate and tentative friend have some fun with the girls. It was all still innocent enough. Clyde joined the pool fun and so did some others. Ten minutes later though, Craig saw Wendy come in from the side (and damn, she did look good in a purple bikini with silver accents), making her way over to Stan with obvious purpose in mind.

For a brief moment, Craig couldn’t even hold that against her. Marsh looked pretty inviting after all, what with that kind of tipsy grin plastered on his face. Wendy was a woman with a mission, tonight. Before she could reach him though, Craig moved over and offered Marsh a hand. 

“Come on, dude. I’m sure Clyde just peed into the water, get out of there.”

Behind him, Craig could practically feel Wendy glare daggers into his back.

 

“Oh, what, really? Fucking gross, Donovan, go piss in a toilet!” Stan wasn’t wasted, but he had hit that tipsy level of being drunk that made him want to touch somebody. Warm skin pressed on his own, someone’s hot breath making him shudder...that’s what he wanted. That’s what he needed. He’d half-turned after climbing out of the pool, taking notice of Wendy only briefly. Her glare wandered to Craig as she surged out of the water, looking like some sort of siren. Stan sighed, deeply at the sight of her.

 

“Hey, Stan, I’ve been looking for you.”

 

“Yeah?” Stan held onto Craig’s arm to steady himself, trying to look dignified. He managed to look like a puppy freshly crawled out of a puddle.

 

“Yeah. I was thinking that you look pretty alone. Where’s Kyle?”

Stan tensed and looked to Craig.

“He’s not here.”

 

Behind them, Clyde yelled something incomprehensible, followed by laughter and giggles. Craig ignored it and met Wendy’s gaze, holding it steady.

“Marsh isn’t drunk enough to make mistakes, yet.” The obligatory _I’ll take care of that_ and the undertone of _Get in line behind me_ remained unspoken, but were clear in his tone and lazy glance over at her. Craig knew how to handle people if he needed to, he usually just wasn’t very invested. Marsh though, he considered his friend now, a friend who had specifically asked him for protection from exactly this situation, so Craig would do that. Even if it meant he had to sling Marsh over his shoulder and transport him somewhere else.

Craig slung an arm around Stan’s shoulder. “Let’s get you a towel. Your mom, I mean, Broflovski is gonna kill me if I let you catch a cold, huh?”

 

“The place is heated.” Wendy pointed out from the pool, her eyes sliding between Craig and Stan. Clearly, she was trying to figure out why Stan had a new guard at his side. 

Stan cleared his throat, grateful for Craig’s staunch support. He realized that this was the promised chaperoning, and that he’d been far too close to giving in again and Wendy obtaining what came to her naturally.

“Yeah...let’s go grab my clothes too. Think I’m done with the pool.”

 

Craig shrugged at Wendy. “He’s sensitive. I don’t want Broflovski and the coach on my ass if he gets a little sniffle.” That comment was probably gonna earn him a jab to the ribs, but at least it made Wendy roll her eyes and look like she gave up. Craig waited until Marsh had collected his clothes and returned to him. “Come on, bathroom upstairs, I know the password.” Being close friends with Token had its merits, Craig knew the pincode for the master bathroom of the mansion and that was exactly where he brought Stan to dry himself off and get dressed. Once the door was closed, the music and noise from downstairs faded out.

Craig pulled a fresh, fluffy towel out of the drawer and threw it at Marsh.

  
“Here you go. You owe me, that one was pretty close.”

 

“What, really? She just wanted to talk.” Stan played it off, but he knew Craig was right. Wendy knew him too well, and each time Stan turned out to be not half bad at his position in football, she was there to clean up. Maybe it was a reputation thing with the other girls, or maybe Wendy liked power trips. Either way, he did owe Craig. The towel was good and warm and fluffy and wrapped it around himself, sighing with bliss rather than actually drying off.

“Did you see that bikini? Brand new, practically see-through. I would have fucked her right in the pool, probably.”

 

Craig snorted and leaned back against the door, arms crossed.

“No class at all, Marsh, huh?” His eyes wandered over him cuddling into the soft fabric of the towel. “We both know she didn’t just wanna talk. She was out for that QB meat. Trust me, I know it when I see it. I’m gay.”

That comment was open to whatever interpretation Marsh intended, but he didn’t give him much time to think about it. “Perhaps you should think about making yourself unavailable for her if you’re this weak. I mean, she is pretty hot, I’ll have to give you that.”

 

“I don’t want to be with her. I just...you know, I have needs.” Stan shrugged, slowly drying his ears and face, very much at odds with the topic. He wasn’t looking for love with Wendy. She was comfortable, familiar, and he knew what he’d get. It was his own, stupid heart that tended to get overly excited about all of that and forget that Wendy was a terrible girlfriend, “You’re gonna be shocked, Tucker, but I’m actually a really shitty boyfriend. I have to be, because every girl I’ve ever dated has broken up with me, eventually.”

It hurt to say and he could feel the life drain out of him. But maybe it was good to get this out there to an impartial party.

 

Craig looked at him for a long while, without saying anything. His expression sad, shoulders slumped, hands clinging to the towel. As if he really believed what he was saying.

It had him sigh. Marsh really had a bit of a fragile ego, that much was clear. It explained why he took football so emotionally, regardless of win or, god beware, loss. He looked so lost and lonely there that Craig pushed himself away from the door to move over to Marsh and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Maybe none of them were really in for _you_. Personally, I mean. Your body, your reputation, sure, but what I’m trying to say is maybe they didn’t like you like you... liked them.”  Craig knew what he was talking about, at least the latter part. He was pretty sure Tweek had been in for him personally, but turned out they hadn’t really liked each other in the same way either. Thinking about it gave him a pang of hurt in his chest and so he banished the thought. This was about Marsh.

“Circumstances like that make you think you’re a bad boyfriend because the foundation to be a good boyfriend on was missing from the get-go. You don’t even have a chance. So don’t cry about it, Marsh, you’ll find someone to love you sooner or later. Until then, you should enjoy yourself a little. Reap the rewards of your hard work, so to say.”

 

Stan watched Craig talk, the words only slowly sinking into his brain. Craig was giving him some sort of solid advice, but it was the source of it that amazed him.  A little hand on his shoulder was definitely not enough to satisfy Stan’s emotions. He was on his feet in a moment, wrapping his arms around Craig, invited or not.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Tucker,” he chuckled to distract himself from the sniffle lodged in his throat. He’d never heard...that kind of perspective. Especially not from someone who had no horse in the race, so to say.

 

Weirded out by the sudden close proximity, neither in a good nor a bad way, Craig awkwardly patted Marsh’s back currently still covered in towel.

“Yeah, well, looks like someone has to take care of you here. You’d drown in self-pity and I can’t be responsible for that.” More patting, but Marsh didn’t dislodge himself. He smelled like pool and a little bit like alcohol, his skin damp still where their arms touched. Craig was aware of the fact he was currently holding an attractive young man in his arms and his body knew that, too, mind supplying him helpfully with images from the morning after Tweek had broken up with him.

Okay, maybe he thought Marsh was hot. That was a given, right? Everyone thought Marsh was hot, the same way everyone also thought he was hot. It was okay to be into him, a little. What wasn’t okay was that Craig realized he’d started to like him. In exactly the kinda way that he’d just described, the way that wasn’t reciprocated by the other side. And yet, he didn’t move one inch, he let Marsh stay right where he was.

 

“You’re actually such a nice guy, it’s amazing.” Stan muttered, squeezing himself against Craig. He would have preferred to have been at home for this crash and burn he was having, rather than occupying Token’s parents’ bathroom. But hell, at least it was warm and private. Stan peeked out of the towel still wrapped over his shoulders and head and looked at Craig. It irked him to look  _ up  _ at the guy, but what could he do about it other than pout? Nothing.

“And you’re a good friend. Really good friend.” And really, really attractive, but Stan’s raging bisexuality was strangled into silence by his acute awareness of social acceptance.

 

All of his senses zeroed in on Marsh. It was ridiculous, almost, how fixated the guy could make him just by looking like this, being like this. Craig really didn’t want this to just be a rebound thing, he was still hurting, even if it felt way better now, but after what they’d just talked about… Marsh deserved someone to like him without anything in the way. Not some underlying attempt at some of his glory, not some broken heart suffering from an ex-boyfriend. But here he was, looking like a delicacy Craig really, really wanted to try. Before he could catch himself, his eyes had wandered to Marsh’s lips. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d kiss and if Craig had anything to say in it, not the last time either. He leaned in, their warm breath mingling, but he didn’t kiss him. Instead, he spoke quietly.

“I’m inclined to help you out with those needs of yours.”

 

That was as candid an offer as any, but it went right into Stan’s spine, shooting down like liquid ice. Or fire. He couldn’t tell, but Craig’s warm breath on his skin was giving him goosebumps. He was so close to his lips, Stan could see that they weren’t nearly as chappy as his own. Maybe Craig used balm or something, he sure had lovely lips for a guy. Stan swallowed heavily, eyes darting down, then back up.

“If it’s okay for you...” he muttered, vaguely remembering Craig sobbing in his bathroom. He really didn’t want to be the cause for any of that. Craig made him...warm. Somehow. In a new and very nerve-wracking way that Stan had not experienced before. He considered it an improvement over making mistakes with Wendy.

“I mean, you are ridiculously hot.”

 

“Trust me, I could definitely use some fun, too. This party is fucking lame.” Craig’s voice dropped another few tones. “You're pretty hot too, by the way. Can’t really not look at you like that.” Okay, maybe he was pouring it on thickly here, but he felt driven by his own realization. He hadn’t just been nice to Marsh because they had this deal going. Or maybe it had been like that at the beginning, but now he certainly was here to test the waters. And the waters seemed to be warm and inviting, at least for the moment. 

Their lips connected in a kiss that was slow at first and then grew more needy with the second. Before his blood turned into liquid fire though and had certain soft parts grow hard with the desire he already felt budding within him, Craig drew away, eyes on Stan.

“You want this here? Don’t have a car downstairs, but my family’s out tonight.”

 

“Who said anything about taking it to your place?” Stan licked his lips. He could taste the drink Craig had been sipping and it made his body flare hot and cold. Making out with a guy seemed like a really, really solid plan for the night. There’d be no misconception about feelings, or dating, or anything like it. It could be plain and simple, no strings attached. “There’s a lock on the door, right?” In case there wasn’t, Stan looked around. The bathroom was huge, with a rainfall shower and two sinks and a free-standing tub, as well as another, wooden door. A sauna? Jesus Christ.

 

Craig was still hung up on the little flick of Stan’s tongue over his lips that let his interest spike, wiping all further plans of maybe not getting frisky in his best friends’ master bathroom that was supposed to be off-limits for the party crowd. He moved backwards, just to lock the door. Next to the sauna (yes, it indeed was one and Craig had been in it before) was a divan (yep, only at Token's house) and if Marsh didn’t wanna leave, that was where they would end up. Placing his hands on Marsh’s shoulders, Craig moved him backwards until the back of his calves hit the side of the divan with its soft looking, beige covers. With a little bit of pressure, Marsh sat down, looking up at him with curiosity.Craig took a step back, eyes never leaving him.

“I’m hot, hm? Then watch very closely, captain.”

He didn’t quite dance to imaginary music as he unbuttoned his shirt, but his movements had  a certain sway to it and Craig’s gaze on Stan was anything but emotionless.

 

_ Hot damn _ . Stan never knew that emotionless husk Craig Tucker could look so devastating. It wasn’t really about the slow reveal of a very male chest, but the way his icy eyes burned under those dark lashes. Stan felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, a lump in his throat and his dick twitch as Craig undid one button after another. Stan could, even without being bi, very much appreciate the aesthetics of his fellow football players. Most people would assume them cocky and stupid, maybe, but no one would ever contest that they were in shape. Craig didn’t even have to be. He could easily retain his position and put on some pounds of fat, but instead, he was sculpted in a way that might be entirely irresistible.  Stan’s breath grew shorter when he took a long look at Craig’s nipples, perched perfectly on his pecs.  _ Damn _ . Damn, his Center was some kind of Adonis, and Stan had never spent this much time looking at him.

Yeah, he was getting kinda hard.

 

It had surely been a good idea to go for a shirt and black jeans instead of his usual loose-jogging-pants look, because Marsh looked like he was about to start drooling. He let the shirt drop to the floor without much ado, eyes still trained on Marsh. Craig wanted to ravage him right there and then and he didn’t even try to conceal the corresponding hunger in his eyes. The thought that maybe he shouldn’t do this because, well, maybe he did like Stan more than just in a friend-way had long since left his mind. He was just a guy, too, and while near see-through bikinis didn’t do anything for him, hot, wet quarterbacks sure did. His shoes he’d already parked by the door earlier out of courtesy and his socks came off pretty unceremoniously before he came closer, step wide to fit Marsh’s thighs between his legs. He looked good like that, but Craig wasn’t done with him. Marsh’s eyes on him were doing all sorts of things for him and if doing this meant he was going to stare at him like that for longer, Craig was game. He knelt down on the divan bed, waistline of his jeans (and that of his shorts, peeking out just a little) level with Marsh’s chin. Craig brought one hand up to grab said chin, cradling it in his hand.

“You tell me to stop and I will. Other than that, Marsh, your hands should be on me and not on the covers.”

 

Holy fuck. Stan had been game for a lot, but this was some next level shit. Craig really knew what he was doing and he would find a willing audience in Stan, if not a willing participant. Girls had stripped for him before and some part of Stan definitely got off on being ordered around a little bit, but this right here? This wasn’t some girlfriend with a vixen expression on her face, seducing him with a lacy bra. There were no soft curves, no cute thongs or panties.  Instead, Craig’s body presented him with lines and angles that Stan found equally enticing. His dry mouth came alive, if only because once he was allowed to touch Craig, he wasn’t shy about doing so. His hands had been on Craig’s ass a lot, after all, so this was, you know, a logical step. Right? Right.

“You’re...fuck, you’re actually giving me a boner,” Stan’s face was vaguely red, but sexual exploration wasn’t an intimidating prospect. Emotions were an entirely different story, but sharing bodies, sex? That was fun. Easy and fun. True, he hadn’t done anything with a guy except for that vague handjob/mutual dryhumping after Craig’s breakup, but that didn’t mean he had to be shy. His hands landed on Craig’s ass, which continued to be clad in tight jeans, much to Stan’s regret. He leaned forward and bridged the few inches to Craig’s abs, which he kissed with eager lips.

 

The forward hands feeling up his ass weren’t exactly a new sensation, but it was a different feeling altogether because this wasn’t his long-term boyfriend, but Stan Marsh who usually only had his hands near his butt when he wanted to have a ball snapped to him. When warm lips pressed against his belly and Marsh grabbed his ass particularly hard, Craig couldn’t help the little groan at the following heat racing down his spine and right into his crotch.He wasn’t ashamed about being the first one to actually make a noise of pleasure either, that kind of self-security probably came with starting sex early.

“That’s the idea. Besides, you’re not the only one, that’s the beauty of doing this with a guy.” He raised his hands to comb through Stan’s damp hair and resisted the urge to press him down and dryhump his face.

 

“Gotcha,” Stan chuckled, working his way over Craig’s stomach region. This wasn’t all that weird at all. Actually, Stan felt excited, which was just fine with Craig, apparently, because when Stan started poking and prodding at his belt and fly, he didn’t seem to protest. Stan made sure to taste Craig’s skin, and found it very much to his liking. Yeah. He could do this. Craig was still standing, but his crotch was practically in Stan’s face now. The captain of the football team was kissing and licking and biting at Craig’s abdomen and waist, his hands full of ass when he wasn’t fumbling with the belt.

“Hey Tucker,” he paused his ministrations, deliberately at eye-level with the bulge in Craig’s jeans, “Let me see your dick.”

 

The words alone brought more jolts of heat straight to his crotch. This was way different from what he knew. Sure, he and Tweek had done this before, but maybe his ex-boyfriend was right and there was something about trying out new people. Marsh was refreshingly forward, all on his own, there wasn’t any hesitation in him and Craig liked that. Oh, and yeah, he totally got off on the fact that this was Stan Marsh, heterosexual stereotype jock, who wanted to see his dick. Craig almost wanted to tell him to get it out himself, but then he remembered that people always wanted most what they couldn’t have (yet) and so he opened his belt and pants fully. To tease Marsh a little bit more which he’d definitely earned for fumbling with the belt for so long, Craig put his hands on his own abdomen and ran them down, fingertips first and then his hands disappearing into his shorts. His right hand wrapped around his dick and he allowed himself a brief little curl around the tip and a single stroke.

“Fuck yeah...” Craig whispered, pleasure lacing his voice, before he pulled his shorts down with his other hand to finally reveal the hot, hard length of it. His eyes were on Marsh again. “Like this, captain?” He whispered.

 

“Mhm, just like that,” Stan praised him eagerly, voice getting huskier the more of Craig he got to see. His dick was pretty, all things considered. Stan had seen worse in the locker room. The motion of Craig’s hand was mesmerising. He could do Craig the favor of stroking his dick, surely.

“You look pretty hung, Tucker,” he smirked, fingers sliding off of Craig’s ass and hesitating only once before he wrapped a hand around the hard shaft. It felt like his own, minus the fun sensation from the other side, but this was fine. Craig’s dick was heavy in his palm, the skin incredibly soft despite the weight of it. Pretty much like Stan’s own cock, but it was still exciting to be touching another guy like this. He looked up at Craig, his libido growing more urgent the longer he touched hot skin.

“You want me to put it in my mouth? I’ve never blown anyone before, but I’m familiar with the process.”

 

“Go on, yeah.” Craig said and damn, he really hadn’t wanted to blurt that out so quickly, with this needy, urgent undertone and breathless on top. The guy he was with being Stan did all sorts of things to him he would have to contemplate later. Not now. 

“If you can.” He teased softly, his lips stretching into a lazy smirk. Craig very rarely gave blowjobs, but he was a very eager receiver. Stan’s hand on him felt good and Craig pushed his hips forward. He’d hold still once his mouth was involved, but he really needed some action, very soon, “Just… no teeth, and then go from there...”

 

“If you fuck my throat, I’m throwing up on your dick,” Stan warned, but there was an eager smile on his face as he looked away from Craig’s face. His dick looked pretty big like this, but if girls could handle dicks in their mouths, so could Stan. He’d always liked watching very closely when someone bestowed that kind of heaven on his dick, so he knew what to do. His lips touched the tip, his fingers curling a little to pull at the skin covering it. Craig’s dick was hot and kind of salty in taste, but clean. Thank fuck for that. Anything else might have put off Stan’s adventurous mood.

“It’s kinda cute, with the foreskin,” he muttered, trying for a gentle little suck at the reddened tip. That worked pretty well, so Stan risked his tongue moving forward. Dick felt really weird against his lips, but the heat was great. It actually made him want to see if he could make Craig come. If he could, on his first damn try, he was some kind of god. Clearly. Stan tried opening his mouth a little wider. His jaw cracked and he paused to stretch it out a little. His other hand had wandered down to Craig’s balls. Hairless balls. Holy shit, did he wax? That was going above and beyond, wasn’t it? Stan would ask later. Craig’s balls were soft and malleable in his hand and Stan almost got distracted, playing with them, except there was a heavy cock on his wet lips, which managed to close over at least a quarter of dick.

 

“ _ Fuck _ !”

Craig couldn’t really help the curse tumbling over his lips because there were warm lips enclosing his dick, a slick tongue pressed against the underside and a curious hand on his balls. One of his hands dropped to Stan’s shoulder and he held on, the other hand was still on his hair, but he didn’t do much with it except fiddle around aimlessly. Originally, he had wanted to comment on Stan’s comment about his foreskin making his dick _cute_ (thanks mom for ‘keeping her boy natural’…), but his wit had jumped out of the window as soon as Stan decided now was a good time to start blowing him.  Speaking of throat fucking though, Craig really wanted that, the wild urge to just thrust forward and take what he needed coursing inside him. He held back of course, and hissed through his teeth instead. He finally had enough willpower over his hand to pet Marsh’s hair.

“That feels fucking great, Marsh. Holy fuck, yes, yeah, like that. God, _yes_. Hah.”  Craig wondered if Stan got off on this, but considering the fact he’d come up with the idea, he probably did. That too turned Craig on and at this rate, he wasn’t really prepared for reaching his high at this speed.

 

Craig was losing his shit and it was all because of Stan. He smirked, or he would have, if there wasn’t a dick in his mouth. It was almost hitting the back of his throat now and Stan tried hard not to choke on anything. To help Craig and himself, he gripped Craig’s dick at the base of the shaft, adding a rhythmic stroke to his efforts as he sucked a little harder. The noises were kind of obscene in the bathroom, but Stan couldn’t care less. His dick was achingly hard where it stuck awkwardly to his thigh and he couldn’t resist for long. There wasn’t much room, but he snuck a hand down between his legs, brushing over his own, hard flesh as he sucked Craig harder. Once Craig was moaning and cursing and pulling his hair, Stan moved back, letting the wet, heavy tip, slip from his lips as he gasped for air.

“You wanna come on my face or something? Once in a lifetime chance, Tucker.”

 

Craig’s world was currently spinning around Marsh and his glorious mouth. It didn’t matter that he didn’t really have practise, he had some natural skill alright. Nevermind the fact that only now Craig realised how helpless he was in face of having sex with Stan Marsh in some form. His body was working on his own. Sure, he could have forced himself to hold out longer, but why so when there was this guy that he tentatively liked, that was hot as hell and currently smirking at him with the promise of fulfilling one of Craig’s naughtiest fantasies. Yes, he had thought of coming in Marsh’s pretty face, having him suck him clean after.

“D-definitely. Fucking hell, Marsh. I’m so gonna come on your face.” Saying so somehow made it even worse to hold on. When he pulled back a little to wrap his own hand around his dick, he got a glimpse of Stan’s own hand in his shorts. That did him in entirely. Stan Marsh touching himself to sucking dick? Hell yes. Craig groaned as he reached his climax in three short pumps, eyes fixated on Marsh’s face which ended up painted in white streaks over his nose, cheeks and forehead. There was even some in his hair. Craig wanted to burn the picture into his memory to never forget. He jerked himself through the entire feeling, panting and staring at Stan.

“You look so fucking good you have no fucking idea.” It didn’t matter that he sounded entirely enraptured with him. All that mattered was that Stan was smiling at him with come in his face.

 

Warm and sticky fluid covered his face, and Stan felt positively filthy. It was a good thing that they were in a bathroom, because he definitely needed to wash this stuff off of his face before ever leaving the room. For the moment, however, he was still uncomfortably hard and bothered. Craig’s moaning and groaning had set his blood on fire and it continued to course around his body. He needed relief before anything else.

“You like coming in your captain’s face, Tucker?” he smirked, raising one hand to wipe at the mess on his skin, the other hand still firmly inside of his shorts, jerking his dick leisurely.

 

“Fuck!” Craig brought out, shaking his head slightly, lips curling at the sight, “You got a pretty filthy mouth, Marsh.” His eyes wandered away from Stan’s face and down to where he was quite obviously working on some relief for himself. “Lay down on your front. I’ll treat you to something nice.”

At the sudden increase of worry in his team captain’s face, Craig snorted. “Don’t worry, I won’t just stick my dick in you. Now get on with it.”

To his surprise, Stan did what he had been told. Craig took a moment to admire the shape of Marsh’s back, the way his muscles brought definition to it along with the perfect curve of his spine ending in a round, currently covered ass. He moved, positioning his knees left and right of Marsh’s legs, then ran his hands down his back, hooking fingers into the waistband of shorts still wet from the pool experience earlier and pulled.

 

It was smart of Craig not to put his weight on Stan’s back or body, because being crushed under his Center would definitely turn Stan off. Instead, it felt more like Craig was gearing up to give him a massage. Alright. That would actually be nice. All of the guys on the team would be grateful for some relief from the constant cramps and aches that came with hard exercise. Stan swiped his tongue over his lips. They tasted very salty, and the drying stickiness remaining on his face was definitely gonna have to come off. His hands, now useless to help his poor, hard dick, found Craig’s shirt on the floor and he lifted it to discreetly give his face a wipe. Craig could deal with his own come on his shirt, that asshole.

“You got any oil?”

 

“Don’t need oil.” Craig’s answer did not come without the slight hint of amusement. Marsh thought he was in for a massage...Before he would be any more confused, Craig leaned down and brought his lips to the small of Stan’s back, kissing down his spine. His hands, currently on the back of Marsh’s thighs were running up over warm skin until he held the shapely globes of Stan’s rear end in them, squeezing them and parting them as he did so. The kissing trail he kept up, now involving slightly more tongue, until he reached a part of Marsh that he had apparently really not had touched before. Craig didn’t stop though, much the opposite. This being new to Marsh only fueled him to put in more effort, make it really good.

 

"Wait, shit! What-” Stan was instantly aware that this was not a massage at all. And despite his cavalier attitude towards all things sexual, he could still say that no one had ever eaten him out before. No one had done more than stuck a finger in his ass and now there was tongue involved. Stan banged his head on the divan’s edge as he craned his neck. “You...you don’t have to do that, you can just,” his breath was short with shock, “j-jerk me off or something.”

 

Craig’s answer was a decisive push of his tongue. Marsh sounded shocked alright, but Craig was determined to make him remember this.  Still, Marsh seemed to be uncomfortable with it, even after a few seconds more of his expert ministrations and so, Craig raised his head.

“Calm down,” He hummed, “I want to eat your ass. I want you to remember.” Why, he didn’t say, not because he didn’t want to, but because he himself didn’t know why. This was a fling, sex at a party, something that just happened with guys their age.

Right?

“Just relax.” To distract himself and to not keep Marsh waiting, Craig continued. He’d gathered plenty of experience he could draw on now and Marsh was the lucky receiver.

 

There wasn’t much else Stan could say to that. If he kept fighting Craig off, he would seem weird, and besides, he wanted to know what it felt like. And, not to mention, it felt great so far, so why should he insist on complaining? Instead he let his head fall down as he groaned into the divan. 

“Fucking hell, you’re good.”

He was, and it took Stan an embarrassingly small amount of time to get into it. He was squirming on the divan, hands gripping at the upholstery and body shivering in Craig’s grasp. There was no being quiet, not when your name was Stan Marsh.

 

Now Craig had expected Marsh to be unable to keep quiet, but this exceeded his expectations. The guy was loud and seemed to have little inhibition about which was all sorts of great and only spurred him on.

Really, if he went off on it like this, he deserved his ass to be eaten by someone who knew what he was doing.  His tongue wouldn’t remain the only thing inside of Marsh as he took to slowly working one and then two fingers into him, aiming for that sweet spot inside of him as he moved them.

 

Stan barely noticed, until one finger became two and he was starting to feel...fuller. Not in any satisfying capacity, but it was better than just Craig’s tongue wriggling around. His enthusiastic moaning had tapered out a little as soon as he realized that there was no constant pressure for him to grind against. The fingers were better leverage. Stan’s grip on the divan allowed him to push himself back, against Craig and his damned fingers and when he brushed something in Stan, he didn’t moan, he just stopped breathing for a long moment.

“Fuck. Right there. More.”

 

Craig chuckled, withholding the tips of his fingers for a little bit before pressing them right back against that spot in Marsh, softly rubbing.

“Like this, captain?”

Marsh’s entire body went rigid and Craig loved the effect he was having on him. He bent over him to catch some skin between his teeth, biting him gently.

 

“Yes, fuck, yes that’s good.” Stan pressed himself against Craig’s fingers, panting as he tried not to focus too hard on how good that sensation was. The feeling of teeth elsewhere was a welcome distraction. When had his breathing gotten so ragged? Damn Craig and his weird ways to make Stan come. “Keep...keep rubbing that, feels like I’m gonna explode.”

It was unlike anything else Stan had ever felt before and he could happily forsake every future night with Wendy for this feeling right here. Craig was hitting the same spot at a consistent pressure now and Stan didn’t last long at all. Without his dick ever being touched, he came, hard, groaning a little curse into the divan.

 

Marsh looked all sorts of amazing when he came, Craig remembered, but he didn’t have a chance to look at him right now what with his face pressed into the divan bed. His hands clawing into the covers and his noises though were a good indicator of just how good he felt. And just like that, it was over. Craig withdrew his fingers and got up to wash his hands, the magic of the moment turning cold and sticky.

“You should take a shower. Come on your face starts smelling bad really fast, trust me.”

 

“Yeah, alright.”  Talk about a cold shoulder. Stan’s elation didn’t last very long, what with Craig’s casual dismissal. Maybe Stan had read the signs wrong after all. Maybe Craig wasn’t blatantly interested in him. It could still be part of his rebound, in which case, Stan wasn’t helping by being so available.  Fuck it. Mistakes might have been made, but Stan didn’t regret any of it. He’d done way worse at Token’s infamous parties, and getting off with Craig Tucker, again, really didn’t measure up, all things considered. Even if it had involved spunk on Stan’s face. 

He was going to have to think about his life choices in the morning.


	9. Magic [Stan&Kyle]

The party and its aftermath were lost on those who never showed up. Stan didn’t lose any sleep over what had happened, but he certainly couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was he gay now? He kept thinking about Craig, and nothing innocent came to mind. It was...weird. And maybe he really needed to talk about it.  But, really, could he? He knew Craig was probably still riding that rebound train and Stan was helping it out, so it wasn’t like they were having a thing. There was no need to be a pussy and cry to Kyle about it, right?

Right.

Sort of.

By the time Sunday rolled around, Stan was sure he was over what had happened and eager to focus only on what really mattered, which was next week’s game. His life revolved around one thing and one thing only; to become good enough at football to make it his future. Stan had kind of given up everything along the way, inspired by the praise of others, the pride in his parents’ eyes, and the roar of the crowd when they won. School had become a secondary thing, helped along by the way his grades stayed decent without Stan’s input. Stan didn’t know when football had become such a big deal, but most of the town showed up to games. Whether it was a South Park thing, or a small town thing, he didn’t know.

And he no longer cared.

Stan was good at it. Yes, it took hard work and dedication, but it was amazing at emptying his head and filling it all the same. His thoughts didn’t have time to turn idle and dark, his cynicism limited by simple lack of energy. Stan could enjoy his life because there was no idle time left in his day. He was happier this way. Football gave him something to do and a clear path out of South Park. He couldn’t really ask for more.

Except, perhaps, having Kyle’s understanding. It grated on his nerves, every time his best friend wrote off Stan’s future and life as a dumb, gay sport. Stan would laugh it off and change the subject, but part of him always grew colder as he silently decided not to tell Kyle any more of what bothered him. Just like when he was ten, he knew he had to make compromises if he continued to value Kyle’s close friendship, which he did. Kyle was the only real person in their whole, fucked up little town. Without him, Stan would drown without him. Which was why he surmised to say nothing about football when he picked up Kyle from his house on Sunday afternoon, ready for their weekly ritual of milkshakes and burgers (to keep Stan’s tentative vegetarian instincts contained).

“Hey dude.”

“Hey Stan.” Kyle offered him a wide smile and pushed his phone into his pocket. It made a small noise, a text message notification, when he put it there, almost rebelling against just being ignored in favour of Stan. Its owner’s hand twitched briefly, but he didn’t go for it, instead pushed his hands into his pockets. Sunday was sacred, Sunday was super best friend day. Or used to be, at least. Kyle still remembered how Sundays started Saturday evening already with either Stan sleeping over at Kyle’s place or the other way around. It wasn’t like that anymore, but between Stan’s football madness and all of Kyle’s many extracurricular activities and the little time that they had for each other due to it, they had somehow managed to at least keep milkshakes and burgers.

Sometimes, Kyle wondered if everything between them had changed because of what happened at their camping trip a year ago. It was most definitely a factor in some form, but Stan had played football before and Kyle had had many extracurriculars at that time, too. Besides, they had talked about it and cleared things up, right?

He gave Stan a once-over and nodded at the door behind him.

“I’m ready, let’s go. How was the party? Congrats on the win by the way, heard you played around and made it a close one.” Kyle elbowed him playfully as they walked towards Stan’s old Jeep.

“As always. You know there really is no other way to live. Token’s house was built for partying.” Stan shrugged off the commentary about the game. It didn’t feel like he’d been playing around, it actually felt as if he’d been playing really hard, trying to win against a team slightly better than his own. But there was no point in being prickly about a win. Sunday was sacred and Kyle was smiling, which was a promising start.

“I’ll have you know that I did not sleep with Wendy, though she did come onto me.”

 

Kyle’s eyebrows shot up and he gave Stan a questioning look, completed by the flabberghasted “How?” as soon as he’d slid into the front seat. The Wendy-problem was a well-known one between them, Kyle usually took over chaperoning duty to keep exactly that from happening. As Stan’s super best friend, Kyle knew Wendy was a recurring thing that Stan for some reason could not let go off which made him ultimately sad, because he wanted different things from her than she did from him. He eyed Stan again, question in his eyes still. “Are you okay? Something happen?”

Guilt caught up with Kyle easily. He hadn’t been there, he had been hanging out with Tweek almost all night until the guy drove him home at three in the morning. Stan had probably needed him...

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Had a buddy look out for me. It was completely fine and I’m a whole two weeks without incident. Are you proud of me?” Stan chuckled as he waved off Kyle’s concern. The truth of what had happened didn’t seem as problematic as giving in to his ex. At least Tucker wouldn’t use what had happened as a reason to cause him personal problems.

“But enough about me, did you have a good night at the...uh...” where had Kyle spent game night, again? Getting laid or something?

 

The question stirred something in Kyle, something that had him ignore how Stan didn’t even remember, something giddy and excited. He swallowed to keep it down and instead shrugged lightly, easy smile on his lips.

“Yeah, was cool. Tweek’s got a great voice.” That wasn’t all that happened, Kyle knew he wasn’t saying anything about how he’d sat around with Tweek all night, even after his bandmates had already left, talking about random stuff, their knees pressed together. Nothing more than that had happened but there was a reason for Kyle’s feelings. He was pretty sure there had been something between them, something special.

“I’m proud of you, dude. Kenny snuck a picture of Wendy’s… bikini and sent it to literally everyone on his contact list.”

 

Stan tensed up, but it wasn’t for the reason that Kyle might be thinking, if he noticed. His hands on the steering wheel tightened. If Kenny had made it to Token’s party (of course, there was a party, Kenny had to be there), did he see...anything else? Like Stan, disappearing into a fucking bedroom with Craig Tucker and not emerging for a suspicious amount of time? He swallowed nervously.

“Yeah? You could basically see everything. Full nip. I mean. She was hot as fuck, but she always is.”  _ And I spent the evening getting spunk on my face. Oh hey, Kyle, I’m still not gay. Probably. _

 

“I know. Kenny got a good shot in and I’m actually aware of the innuendo here. He sounded like he did.” Kyle shook his head. Sure, Wendy looked good, like any straight guy’s wet dream, literally, because Kenny had gotten her when she was just emerging from the pool like a goddamn water nymph or something. For Kyle though, the picture had done nothing, even though he’d try to see something in it, get at least a little bit horny over it, but everything that came to mind this morning was the way Tweek’s knee had been pressed against his all night and how he’d noticed for such a lanky guy, he was practically radiating warmth.

He’d ended up jerking it, to a vague picture of a faceless guy asking him to fuck him and that was that.

“So how’d you… not get it on with her? You usually can’t be tamed as soon as she even so much as looks at you.”

 

“I told you, right? Had a buddy from the team look out for me. I mean, it was kind of his idea to go, anyway. I wanted to stay home and just binge on Netflix or something.” The coast seemed clear, Kyle had no idea, which meant no one else did either.  “I just got home at like three and went to bed. Tucker’s a good chaperone, the ultimate cockblocker.”That was innocent enough. Kyle would find it weird if Stan refused to even name the guy who kept him from disaster.

The diner wasn’t far off now. At this time, the goth teens would probably be crawling out of their beds to start sipping coffee there, too, but Stan couldn’t really care less. It was as good as being alone with Kyle.

 

“Tucker?” It was a little bit weird to think that Craig Tucker and Stan Marsh, the two guys that everyone at school knew as each other’s rivals, hung out together at a party. Kyle’s mom had mentioned over dinner the other day how Craig was over at the Marshs’ place often recently.

“Didn’t think Tucker out of all guys would become your football buddy.” Kyle was relieved, in a way. He couldn’t keep up with Stan when it came to the depth of strategies and plays that the Lions’ quarterback operated on. “It’s good though. Just weird. I mean you guys used to hate each other, I remember when he gave you that wet-towel-welt on your ass.”

 

“That was nothing. He does that to everyone. He’s still kind of a sadist, anyway. He should probably play D but I need him to hold the O-line together. It doesn’t work without him.” Stan knew he was drifting off into football babble but this time, Kyle had more or less directly asked him about it. They pulled into the parking lot, which was only mildly filled with cars. 

The secret of what had really happened at the party hung heavily in the air, and Stan could only vividly remember the summer when things had changed between himself and Kyle. He couldn’t possibly bring Craig and his little bathroom scene up. It would hurt Kyle, and Stan didn’t want to do that. Even if Kyle was over the terrible crush he’d had, he would think Stan rejected him nonetheless if Stan now suggested he may actually be into guys after all. 

“I never really hated him. He was just...you know, always a dick to me.”

 

Kyle’s eyebrows went up as they walked towards the diner and got a booth by the window, the one they usually got even. Stan Marsh didn’t hate Craig Tucker. That was something, oddly, Kyle would not have expected out of his best friend’s mouth even though he thought he was the one to know him best.

“Was? As in, he’s nice to you now? Well, I guess that kind of figures, he hangs out with you a lot.”

Tweek came to mind and the way he seemed perfectly okay with the breakup whereas Tucker had been moping around school for at least two weeks. Then he’d started hanging out with Stan like they had never been the school’s most popular rivals (next to Wendy and Kyle of course, who battled it out on the academic level whereas Craig and Stan used to get into fistfights every other day).

 

“We just...I dunno, we get along pretty well now, I guess. People change.” And Stan had been the one to be there for Craig, accidentally, really, after the disastrous breakup with Tweek. Or rather, the dumping by Tweek, because he’d done nothing short of shit on Craig’s heart that friday night. The more Stan hung out with Craig, the less he understood why Tweek had decided to forsake their relationship in the first place. Craig seemed like a perfectly normal dude with a small penchant for sadism towards human beings. Maybe Tweek’s expectations just went another way...

Before he got lost in thought, again, he stared at Kyle, trying to cling to the warm presence of his best friend. Who didn’t feel so warm and trustworthy as he had been when they were kids, but that also wasn’t a subject Stan wanted to bring up. Ever since his tenth birthday, Stan was painfully aware of how their relationship worked. How he had to tailor himself to suit Kyle’s expectations. It got easier over the years, to hide the depths of his cynicism. Football helped a lot, letting Stan vent his frustrations into physical exhaustion, but the rift with Kyle never truly healed.

Maybe that’s why he’d never considered himself capable of falling in love with his best friend. He was barely adequate as a friend, Stan would never be good enough to be worthy of Kyle in any other shape or form.

Fuck it, why couldn’t he think of something they could actually talk about?

 

Kyle wasn’t faring much better. His hands toyed with the napkin dispenser as he focused on getting one end of the foremost napkin neatly back into its hold.  He did have an idea of what to say, but he didn’t know if Stan wanted to hear it for some weird reason.  Stan knew he was… not particularly interested in girls and since that one summer, he hadn’t ever said anything about Kyle dating any girls again.  But did that mean he would be interested in Kyle’s musings about if it was a thing between him and Tweek now or if he’d just made things up?  Especially because he seemed to be buddies with Craig now.

Then again, Stan was _his_ friend. His very best friend, still, despite their differences. Kyle wanted to start speaking but was interrupted in the process by the waitress arriving.

Her name sign said Abby and she beamed at Stan. Kyle hadn’t seen her here before, but he was pretty sure she also went to Park County High.

“Hey guys, what can I get you?”

The words were directed more at Stan than at Kyle but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Kyle wiggled his eyebrows at Stan behind her back.

 

Stan ignored the way Kyle seemed to think that this was anything but a chore for Stan. He could see the waitress’ eyes light up as she glanced him over, recognizing him with ease. There was a definite downside to be so well-known to what felt like the entire county. And judging by how many people seemed to turn up for football games every Friday, well, it might as well be. Abby looked nice enough, though, and she at least seemed to remember her job.

“Yeah, uh, a double cheese with curly fries? And a cherry coke. No ice.”

 

Abby hovered for far longer than she needed to, with her pen scratching over her pad. Her eyes stayed on Stan until he gave her a small, uncertain smile.

When she was done noting down Stan’s order, Kyle placed his without being asked, really.

“Double cheese without tomato, please. And a vanilla milkshake. Thanks.”

At least Abby continued to write so Kyle leaned back, pulling out his phone. From experience, he knew Stan’s meetings with ‘fans’ always went the same way.

 

“I’m so hyped for next Friday, you guys are gonna send them back to Boulder crying, right? I can’t wait!” She seemed to mean it, her face mirroring the excitement in her voice. Kyle frowned, briefly looked up at her, but other than that checked his Twitter feed.

Abby would not be dislodged without at least an answer, and Stan couldn’t really blame her for showing an interest. He loved football, and so did lots of other people. They really shouldn’t be blamed for his apathy towards the ‘fans’. Stan owed her a smile and a smidgen of human decency, at least. Kyle seemed content enough not to say anything at all.

“I hope so. We’re definitely prepared for them.”

They were, but that didn’t make up for Boulder’s D-line, which had their sights set on Stan, doubtlessly.

 

“That sounds great, I’m gonna cheer so much for you, Stan!”

 

Kyle looked up from his phone only when Abby was gone. “Think I’ve seen her at school.” He commented and put his phone on the table. Stan getting chatted up about football was happening often enough for them not to talk about it anymore. Instead, Kyle tried to continue with what went on in his mind when right in this moment, his phone buzzed. On the display, it clearly stated that Tweek had sent him a message. Kyle snatched it up, but Stan had most probably seen.

Kyle felt like he owed him an explanation even though Stan wasn’t even giving him a questioning look.

“Uh, the gig was nice, Tweek and I chatted a lot. About music and stuff.” More stuff than music, really, but music sounded like a more neutral topic than what they’d really talked about.

 

“Cool,” Stan didn’t particularly care about Tweek Tweak, but the way Kyle seemed eager to snatch up the conversation and direct it back at that night was kind of suspicious. Stan knew his best friend wasn’t particularly interested in football, but he could feign at least a marginal amount of enthusiasm for the thing consuming Stan’s life, right?

Wrong. He was still talking about the music.

“Not really your style, though, is it? I mean, Tweek’s got that whole metal vibe going on. With the piercings and shit.” It wasn’t really the music in question here, but Stan possessed some tact.

 

Stan mentioning Tweek’s piercings had Kyle’s brain go haywire for a moment as it tried to supply him with all the memories it had stored of Tweek playing with his goddamn tongue piercing throughout the entire night. Only after a few seconds, Kyle managed to answer properly.

“Yeah, no. Not really. I don’t know.”  Their conversation was really slow today and Stan didn’t really jump onto anything. He was tense which in turn made Kyle tense and no topic made it better.  Kyle decided to just go for meaningless talk about school, family and video games. It was easier and with his phone holding the unread message, he couldn’t really concentrate on anything substantial.

Their order arrived in a timely fashion, even though the diner was nicely filled with people.

 

Lunch was a tense affair full of frivolous small talk. It wasn’t like the two of them to be so awkward with each other, but Stan could put no words to the feeling of Kyle having skipped out on him for Tweek Tweak. He didn’t know if he was jealous or bitter or what. He’d been the one to encourage Kyle in the first place, so he couldn’t go back on his own words now. It was a bitter pill to swallow. 

At least the food allowed them both to stop making for forced conversation and concentrate on busy silence, but not for long. Stan was halfway through his curly fries and burgers when a small family came to a halt next to the table. Stan’s eyes immediately clung to the ring on the father’s hand. A championship ring had that kind of effect. Moreso than the baby thrust in Stan’s direction.

 

“Can I take her picture with Colorado’s future state champion QB?” The man was beaming. Stan didn’t recognize him or his wife, so they probably weren’t from South Park.

“Of course, sir.” He wiped his hands off and took the stranger’s baby, smiling with practiced ease. 

The baby luckily played along and didn’t start crying, but it was very interested in pawing at Stan’s snapback instead of looking at the camera. Both mom and dad did their best to get little Jess to look at the camera.

 

Kyle continued munching his fries. Future state champion? The Park County Lions were good, no doubt, but state champions in any case? People sure placed a lot of trust in their favourite high school team.

 

“Thank you so much.” The mom said when the picture was finally taken, “Jess doesn’t even want to let go off him, she knows what’s good already.” She laughed and took another picture of a somewhat embarrassed Stan, baby hands on his face.   While the mom was busy with her phone, the dad took the baby from Stan’s arms again, holding her with ease in one arm. The other hand, the one with the ring, landed on Stan’s shoulder.

“You bring it home, Marsh. You’ll make us all very proud.”

 

The man might as well have slammed a sackful of bricks onto Stan’s shoulders. He really didn’t need the reminder than everyone in the county looked at their team with the same expectations. Being ranked as one of the top five in their state was already a huge achievement, but it was no trophy in the showcase, no ring for any of their fingers.

“We’ll give it our best, sir. We always do.”

He couldn’t promise anyone anything more than that. And he’d said this particular sentiment so many times, it was a reflex. When the hand stopped patting him and the small family moved on to their own booth (far away, luckily), Stan sighed heavily and dared a glance at Kyle.

“What you lookin’ at, kosher boy? You want a picture of me too?” he grinned. It was easier to make fun of Kyle (gently) and get him going about something than explaining how intensely uncomfortable the pressure of expectation made Stan feel.

 

He earned himself a soft glare for that. Instead of saying something, Kyle turned his phone to show Stan the freshly posted photo of awkward-Stan-with-baby on Twitter.

“Hashtag PC Pride, dude.” Kyle snickered. “I’ll never get over it.”

 

Stan slid back into the booth, but something had changed. Like a small cloud of something around his best friend and Kyle didn’t know how to address it. Stan liked being famous, right? Was it too much pressure for him? Kyle didn’t think so, Stan played football like a champion, he mostly carried the team, he could do this easily, right?

“Fuck that was quick.” Stan returned to his burger, head hanging just a little lower, shoulders hunched just a little tighter. He didn’t want to think about the ‘PC Pride’, as the fans of the school team liked to call themselves. Every cheesy pun that could be made in relation to lions, people shot for.

“I thought he was gonna ask me to sign his baby or something.”

 

Kyle snorted. “Yeah and the mom looked like she wished it was yours.”

 

That had Stan chuckle as well, but neither of them managed to laugh genuinely.

 


	10. Highway [Stan&Craig]

_ 27 - 32. _

In favour of the Boulder Bulldogs.

 

The mood in the locker room was devastating. No one was speaking, it even seemed like everyone was trying to be extra quiet. No wet towel slaps, no playful shoulder bumps, everyone was just sitting around, staring at their helmet or playing with their gloves.  Clyde was wiping at his chin, blood dripping from it.

Craig stood a little in the back, the game still on his mind, all the mistakes. He hadn’t held the O-line together well enough, that was a fact that the coach would probably have go at later, but right now, Mason wasn’t even in the room and everyone was suffering already.

The epicenter of suffering was the figure at the innermost part of the loose circle, the quarterback slumped against the column that ran from floor to ceiling. Stan was drenched in dirt, blood and sweat and all he could hear was his blood rushing through his head.

They’d lost.

He lost.

 

No thoughts other than that circled the drain of his mind. He bumped his head back, hard, not satisfied with the sharp pain that lanced through him when his skull met very resistant concrete. They lost. And it was his fault. A fucking fumble. It didn’t matter if it had been his hands or the hundreds of pounds of D-liner knocking the ball out of his grasp. Stan could have turned this game if he had just thrown the damn thing a second earlier. Anything than what he’d done. He couldn’t feel the blood dripping from his lip to soak his neck and jersey. He’d lost them the game, and nothing but disappointment and anger would receive each and every member of them team. The team that counted on Stan to lead them. The team he’d let down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the words came with an ugly noise. A sob. He couldn’t take any more of the heavy silence, he couldn’t take any more of the inevitable, crushing disappointment. Tears bubbled out of him,

“I’m sorry.” he repeated for the silent room, his voice cracking apart with his cries.

 

If it had been possible, their team captain’s breakdown would have made the room even more quiet.  While everyone had looked at Stan, there were  no glances exchanged, no shrugs, no comments. Just everyone quietly suffering with their captain. It took about a minute until Craig woke up from his stupor of listening to Stan’s sobs and wallowing in misery.

It wasn’t really the fact that this was just playoffs and that they still had a good shot at state championship, they still had lost the game and that hurt because football mattered and each and every single one of them wanted to win.  No, it was more Stan’s sobbing that broke Craig’s heart. He’d seen him cry before, but now that he’d spend hours and hours with the guy, aware of how much of himself Stan devoted to the one cause of winning… Craig now knew what it must be like for Stan to feel like he’d failed them all, the guys he preferred to his own family.

He was the first one to move. Despite his size, Craig was agile at moving between sitting and leaning bodies of his teammates, all distraught, all of them feeling with Stan. And yet, nobody did anything, nobody told Stan it was okay, because they all knew it wasn’t and Stan was bawling his eyes out for every single one of them. Like a martyr of some sort, it was almost bizarre.

Craig decisively squatted down next to him and put his hands on Stan’s padded shoulders, bringing their foreheads together. He didn’t say anything, he just met Stan’s eyes and steadily held his gaze.

 

Stan didn’t stop crying, but his hiccuping sobs quietened a little. Craig was too warm and too close, but he was touching him, holding him, in a manner that Stan could siphon comfort from. At least a little. And if Craig intended to punch Stan or headbutt him, he deserved it. Eyes swimming with tears met Craig’s, questioning not the comfort, but rather the reason for it.

“I’m sorry,” Stan mouthed again, eyebrows drawn together, dirt and snot and blood running over his face.

 

“We hear you, Marsh.” Craig said, voice surprisingly soft. “It’s okay. We’re all sorry.” He had no idea if that was what Marsh needed to hear, but it felt right to tell him this. Stan seemed to forget that even if he was the captain, he still had a team behind him, guys that were responsible for their own mistakes. It wasn’t just Stan’s fault.

Craig continued to look at him, calmly, without any acted joy or carefree smile. He did care, he knew what this meant. More and harder training, longer nights of strategy studies for Stan, a tense coach until they reached playoffs at least. And then, well, Mason was gonna be tense all the time, so it was whatever, really.

But Marsh needed to calm down. It was not the end of the world.

 

Stan needed to hear something like that. Simply put, his world was not over, life went on, and no one really hated him for his failures. His arm came up to grasp at Craig. As soon as he felt the reassuring, solid reality of Craig, he clung to it. His apologies ran dry, but his tears continued in mute desolation. Both arms wrapped around Craig’s neck and Stan kept their faces pressed together. He needed this, and he never wanted to move.

But eventually, even the downtrodden realized how tired and hungry playing football made you. The team slowly cleared out, hitting the showers and resigning themselves to a subdued Friday night, without any fanfare or partying.

Stan and Craig were the last ones in the room, unchanged and unmoving.

 

“Tucker,” Mason stood in the door, surveying the crumpled pile of Center and Quarterback, “Can you get him home?”

 

Only when the coach talked at him directly, Craig finally moved. Their teammates walking past them, muttering something or not, hadn’t mattered. But now that Mason was giving him an indirect order, Craig responded. He unwrapped himself from Stan just a little, but didn’t look up.

“Yessir, will do. Come on, Marsh. You need a shower.” It wasn’t particularly easy to get him to stand up, but Craig was strong and he did manage to get Marsh onto his own feet.

Mason left them alone without another word after having Craig’s confirmation that Stan would be taken care of.

Jake was the last one to clear out of the locker room, leaving both of them alone to shower and get dressed. It was probably better like that, Marsh still looked like misery personified.  Craig wasn’t good at comforting, so he didn’t, he just made sure Marsh showered properly and then got dressed.

 

Stan was a walking wraith, really. It was all force of habit. Showering, getting dressed, drying his hair, putting his uniform into the bag to wash...It was all proof that the world went on, but it didn’t feel that way to Stan at all. The idea of going home had his stomach turn. So he waited around, bag slung over his shoulder, idling in the parking lot and staring up at the stadium lights, which were still shining brightly. Funny, how much of his life they dictated.

 

Craig had been blowdrying his hair for his usual effortless-sweep-look and had kind of lost sight of Marsh only to find him again outside at the parking lot, staring at the lights. He came to a halt next to him, their shoulders touching, Craig following Stan’s gaze, before he traced it back to his face. For a moment, Craig just stared at him, wordlessly.

Then, he reached out and pushed his hand decisively into the pocket of Stan’s jeans. When he retracted it, Stan’s car keys were dangling from his index finger.

“I’m driving. Get in the car, we’re getting out of here.”

 

Now, usually, Stan would very strongly object to someone else driving his Jeep, but tonight, nothing really mattered anymore.

Without argument, he slid into the passenger seat of his own car, fiddling with the dashboard until the glovebox opened. The bottle he pulled out was small and part of his emergency stash, but this definitely was an emergency.  The burn of the alcohol would help him stop trying to dry-heave, at least.

Craig got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, just as the stadium lights flickered off. Now, they were surrounded by quiet darkness. Stan stared ahead, speaking only when Craig put the Jeep into motion.

“I don’t...want to go home.”

 

“Yeah, no. Me neither.” Craig’s voice wasn’t exactly small, but he did sound a little more tightly wound than normally.  Once they were off of the parking lot, leaving the stadium behind, a little of the tension fell off. The car started smelling like some sort of strong liquor.  Craig looked over and held out his hand. “Could use some of that as well. Suggestions as to where we’re going?”

 

Stan deposited the bottle into Craig’s palm, not at all concerned about consequences. The night was fucked anyway. He didn’t fancy going home to hearing his dad rant about the coach’s mistakes, or the referee’s failures (because that’s what things ultimately boiled down to, with Randy). He didn’t want to endure his mother’s vague concerns either. Just...nothing. He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. Craig was okay, but only because Craig was in the same boat, more or less.

“Anywhere that’s not my fucking house.” He wasn’t hungry, but the mall complex outside of South Park had plenty of things that opened all night and provided at least an excuse not to go home. “You wanna get some Tacos?”

 

Craig didn’t really reply, he just took a sharp turn to the right and headed straight for the Taco Bell. Drive-thrus were a blessing, that way they only had to deal with one employee and not a whole fast food restaurant full of people that might comment on how bad their game had gone. 

Stan had sunken into the seat, nursing his flask, trying to not be seen by anyone. Craig didn’t really mind getting food for both of them anyway. Marsh had done the same for him a few weeks ago. Their haul was dropped in Stan’s lap and they were on the road again a few minutes after. They didn’t speak for a long while, but Craig turned on some music, some mindless beat to distract them.

 

After twenty minutes in the car, Craig pulled over at some parking lot next to the freeway, apparently a resting area for truck drivers mostly. Once Stan’s jeep stood still, Craig pushed back the backrest of his seat fully, staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t wanna go home either, so we’re staying. For now.”

 

Stan didn’t object at all, he’d prefer to spend the night in his car anyway. Going home meant dealing with Randy and he had no nerve for it. Not tonight. Not after the confidence he’d been spewing all week (sort of) about this game. Boulder had prepared more thoroughly, had worked harder, become faster...  Stan was a disgrace and that was that. He didn’t need his dad to rub it in harder.

"I had to hold a baby. Someone handed me their fucking baby. Complete stranger. Hands me his baby and makes me swear we’ll win.” He was just talking to fill the silence, but it felt good to rant, “This whole goddamn town thinks I owe them a state championship. That it’s my game to win or throw.”

As if football was as easy as one guy, deciding he’d like to hear the crowd cheer instead of boo.

 

“Yeah, saw that. Girls went nuts over it.” Craig pulled out his phone, ignoring the other part of what Stan had said for now. He knew how heavy it weighed even on broad football players’ shoulders. It was easy to imagine that Stan, poster child and golden boy, got to bear the brunt of it, but even less popular position players like Craig got comments from strangers now and then. Marsh just needed to vent and he could do that. He found the picture posted under the Lions’ hashtag again and held his phone out to Stan.

“Pretty cute. And I don’t mean the baby.”

 

Stan’s well-placed frustrations ground to a temporary halt. Craig was kind of a pill when it came to rants anyway, never really adding any fuel to the fire and only handing out tepid responses.  But what he said, Stan heard very clearly. Was he...no, that was an off-hand remark. Maybe Craig thought he could make Stan a little uncomfortable, or something, to get him to think of something else.  His eyes ticked over the picture. He looked awkward and friendly, with the baby in hand. Kyle, barely visible in the background, looked utterly bored. Stan looked away.

“Thanks. Didn’t think I was your type.”

He tried for the friendly ribbing that had become such a pleasant part of their new friendship.

 

“Didn’t think so either.” Craig replied nonchalantly and closed the picture, pushing his phone back into his pocket and instead crossing his hands behind his head.  “Your dad being a bitch too when you lose games? Think I can’t show up for at least two days until he’s calmed down somewhat. It’s like everyone thinks we don’t know we fucked up ourselves already.”

He had to think about Stan and the baby again, the awkward expression on his face.

“How do you deal with it?” Craig asked slowly, “People thinking you owe them something. How do you do it?”

 

“This helps,” Stan held up his now-empty flask, letting it drop into the depths of his glove box once more. He wasn’t drunk enough to feel good, but the edge of despair was just pleasantly out of sight. “That and screaming into a pillow sometimes. You know, to bridge the void.” He was joking, but something in his gaze was very, very real here.

“It’s all I have. All I’m good at. I can’t really...I mean, without it, I’m nothing, no one would know I even exist. That’s how I deal with it. They all see in me what they never had. It’s not about me. Not really.”

Stan rustled through the wrapped food, trying to decide what kind he could stomach, “Living out here sucks. I mean, you know that. My dad’s a stupid drunk, and he gave up on his crazy dreams. I bet your dad’s not a happy guy either. The only time they feel like winners is if...we’re winning. For like, the whole fucking town.”

A guy like Craig probably didn’t see it that way. He could flip his own grandmother off, if he had to. Craig perfected the art of not giving a fuck, while Stan struggled with caring too much about trivial bullshit.

 

Craig didn’t shrug, didn’t wave it off, didn’t even flip it off either. He just looked at Stan, examined his face, understood the reality of what the other guy was on about.  Him not caring about it didn’t mean Craig didn’t understand what this was about and what kind of effect it could have.

His eyes wandered to the empty flask. Marsh drank to deal with this crap. It didn’t really come as a surprise, given how much he readily accepted and absorbed the pressure into him other people dished out like candy on Christmas. Craig had seen how he worked. Stan actually playing the game was just a small part of it and even that was more work than playing, having fun. Other than that, his whole life was dedicated to football. Craig not caring about what other people thought also didn’t mean he didn’t give a fuck at all. At this point, he gave more fucks than he wanted to, football had taken over his life too, in a way, dragging him into emotions he’d usually just ignore. Elation when they won, pride when he bowled over a guy or two, anger when the enemy defense broke their O-line, disappointment with himself when they lost. It was a cesspool of things Craig usually didn’t feel and he was hooked on it just as much as everyone else.

From the flask, Craig looked up at Marsh’s face. It was Stan’s turn to stare at the car’s ceiling now, but that didn’T stop Craig from letting his eyes wander over his profile.

Stan somehow played a big role in that cesspool, Craig had figured that out a long while ago, but only now the dimensions of it were showing. Had he hated the guy a few months ago, he enjoyed his company now in a way that was oddly familiar and yet very new. He’d always respected Stan Marsh for standing up for what he believed him. The guy was a good leader, better than Craig himself and everyone knew that. Few though cared enough to see this Stan, the guy that wavered under the pressure, giving it his all and failing.

It was odd being the one to care, but Craig did.

“You drunk?”

 

“I could be,” Stan chuckled humorlessly, fiddling with the foil and paper around a burrito. Maybe he could drown his residual disappointment in hot sauce. He had a bottle of it in the glovebox (which was, essentially, a treasure trove of shit he might need at any given moment). He looked over to Craig in the driver’s seat. He still looked composed, as untouched by the world as ever. The only time Stan remembered seeing something bother Craig, he’d rather not remember. He hadn’t been back to KFC since that night, the taste of chicken somehow now linked to heartbreak.

“I wish I could be more like you, Tucker.”

 

Hearing that from the town’s sweetheart sure could do things for an ego, but all it did was mildly irritate Craig. He frowned.

“It’s easy” Craig said, no small amount of sarcasm in his voice, “Just don’t give a fuck about anything, then find out you accidentally actually gave a fuck and were just pretending all the time.”

His hands had found something edible in the paper bag, turned out to be a quesadilla of some sort.

“I really need a drink if we’re gonna keep talking about this.”

 

“A drink or a _drink_? Because if it’s the latter, we should go to my uncle’s cabin.” Mostly because the stash there was easily accessible and no one lived in the damn woods to be disappointed in Stan.   The burrito wasn’t doing much against the hollow in his chest, but at least it would still his grumbling stomach. Maybe he could stay gone all night with Craig. Morning would look better if he didn’t have to face anyone but himself (and a buddy in the same boat). But being alone with Craig and a supply of alcohol...well. Something could happen. Just like it did at that party. Stan didn’t mind. He kind of wanted it to. It would make him forget about the disappointment in himself, and that was worth a lot.

 

Craig snapped up the backrest. Cabin sounded better than sleeping in the car and if there was alcohol involved, well, maybe they’d just be brainless enough to stop talking and get to more hands-on activities. Not that Craig needed to drink for wanting that, but being buzzed while making out was good, too.

“That cabin? Where we trashed Cartman’s shit in fourth grade? Where Butters fell off the roof in eighth grade?”

When Stan nodded, Craig started the car.


	11. Be My Escape [Stan&Craig]

The woods were silent when Stan and Craig tumbled from the jeep into the cabin. It was cold inside, of course, and with much cursing and fumbling, Stan struggled to start a fire while Craig wrapped himself in every blanket he could find.

They ended up huddled in front of the dusty old fireplace together, their haul from Taco Bell spread on the coffee table, framed by a couple of bottles of whiskey (which was all Jimbo kept at the cabin, apparently). Stan took another hearty swig of the first bottle he’d cracked open, comfortably huddled on Jimbo’s terribly uncomfortable couch. Craig’s body heat made up for what the cabin lacked.

“...Still beats going home, right?”

“Entirely.” Craig replied readily, but didn’t say much more than that. A few minutes passed with them just eating and staring at the fire, then Craig reached for the whiskey bottle just to take a large swig, gulping it down without pulling a face. Instead of just returning the bottle to the small table and withdrawing his limb into the warm hull of blankets, Craig’s arm landed on the couch’s backrest, behind Stan. He wasn’t touching him, but his arm was close enough to Stan for them to feel each other’s body warmth.

It was there, hovering on the periphery. Not just Craig’s arm, but the whole offer to turn all of this into something else. Stan wondered if Craig was so aware of it himself, or if he understood Stan to be too miserable tonight for anything pleasant to happen.

Either way, Stan wasn’t shy with body contact. Not when they’d done the things they’d done together. He leaned into Craig, closing his eyes and just listening to the crackle of the fire for a long moment.

“I miss camping. I used to go all the time. With Kyle. I think he hated it.”

Craig was slightly surprised by finding Marsh in his arm, leaning against him so readily after only a few moments.

“Don’t think Broflovski ever hated hanging out with you.” Craig said and shrugged lightly, “That guy never looked like he didn’t wanna be around you.”

It wasn’t like Craig was particularly happy to go camping. When he’d gone camping, it’d been with his dad and they’d shot animals and Craig had hated every little thing about it. Nothing he really wanted to share with Marsh right now, it’d ruin the mood completely.

“This is like camping, right? Well, almost.”

“I guess.”

Stan fell quiet again. Maybe Craig didn’t want to talk and was just being marginally nice because Stan witnessed his breakdown post breakup. That must be why they were here, together, staring into flames in a dusty cabin, alone in the middle of the woods,“...I never really hated you. You know, when we were kids. But you were an asshole back then.”

 

Okay, that one, Craig really didn’t wanna talk about. Couldn’t they just go back to the camping with Broflovski topic?

They’d been idiot kids back then, especially Craig himself, he knew that now. His urge to be rivals with Stan, to beat him at any cost, that hadn’t been just a boys-being-boys thing. He’d only ever understood after he’d already gotten together with Tweek that, well, he’d harboured and nurtured one gigantic crush on Stan Marsh. One that faded away, of course, once Tweek had become more than just a fleeting acquaintance, but now that the time with Tweek seemed like one big cutout chunk that someone had removed from his life, having a crush on Stan was all the more present. Having had a crush, Craig corrected his thoughts and that too was another reason why he shouldn’t be on about this right now.

Before he could stop himself, he heard himself answer though.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Thought being an asshole was the only way to get a reaction out of the guy I wanted a reaction out of most.”

 

An apology was the last thing Stan expected out of Craig and it almost made things more awkward. He was the guy Craig wanted a reaction from? That was why he’d been a little asshole? It was so stupid that it was kind of sweet. Stan chuckled, and this time, it was mirthless. He was still leaning into Craig’s side and saw no reason to correct that. They were friends now, right? Friends that told each other shit and made terrible choices and got drunk. That seemed like exactly the kind of company Stan wished for on a shitty night like this.

“Do you still want reactions out of me, Tucker?”

 

Stan might as well have been bodily backing him up into a corner, all sweet smile and soft voice, with nothing for Craig to do against it. It certainly felt like it and here was one of those things that he was aiming at earlier. Thinking you didn’t care and then finding out you did care the hard way, with your heart hammering in your throat and your body unsure if it was too warm or too cold currently, it was just the worst. He’d told him before, while rebounding, but he’d meant it back then, too. Stan Marsh was pretty, his eyes a deep blue, his nose impossibly cute, his thick eyebrows giving his otherwise slightly more rounded face some sharp angles that the girls at school fawned over.

It wasn’t that he’d told him before though, it was that he’d been thinking that Stan Marsh was pretty ever since third grade where they’d gotten into a fight, both of their gangs, Craig’s against Stan’s. That time, Stan had given him a hefty nosebleed with his fists, but Craig remembered the moment before that as if it had been yesterday, the one, very clear thought in his mind that Stan Marsh was pretty.

“Yeah. Kinda.”  _ Definitely _ .

 

Stan sighed, oblivious to Craig’s dilemma. To him, their conversation only confirmed that Craig still like riling him up and that they hadn’t gotten very much further since they were what, ten, twelve? Had they really not gotten further than pulling each other into fights and arguments, just to see which one of them snapped first?

No, he refused. They were friends now. Stan was beginning to question some certainties in his life, all because of Craig. They weren’t petty kids anymore.

“Don’t take this the wrong way...but I think you’re making me...bicurious or some shit.”

 

“Why? Are you reacting to me right now?”

Craig thought he was being bold and very obvious, but Stan didn’t really seem to get it. He shifted a little bit and finally let his arm drop on Stan’s shoulder, hand on his bicep. It was odd, now that he was finally beginning to understand what was going on here. What had been going on all along, ever since he’d managed to deal with the hurt from the breakup and started hanging out with Marsh.

 

“Yeah, I kinda am. You know, when we lose, I usually can’t even make it home without being wasted. But with you, it’s...it’s bearable. It’s not okay, but I don’t feel like the world is ending tomorrow. Or if it is, I don’t care anymore.” Stan allowed the touch, ignoring the way it made his heart beat just a little bit faster and warmed something in his stomach.

“And I think it’s because of you. Being here. With me.”

He let it hang there, maybe a little hopefully. 

 

Was there hopefulness in his voice? Craig latched onto it and clung to it. Stan’s words were sweet honey drizzling into his ear, just what he wanted to hear, oddly enough.

“That’s me not caring for the both of us.” Craig tried to joke lamely, but his own voice sounded weird in his head. He turned his head only to meet Stan’s ocean blue eyes. His best effort employed, Craig managed to hold the gaze for about ten seconds before his dropped to Stan’s full but slightly chapped lips. When he realised what he was doing, Craig looked back up, almost apologetically.

So he was into Marsh. Again. Great. Except here he was, sitting with him in a terribly romantic getaway situation, and had just pointed out that Craig was making him interested in homo stuff. How was he not supposed to think about kissing him? It was impossible.

Craig was definitely not as smooth as he’d been at the party. Stan wondered if it was because their whole mood was an entirely different one, or because Stan had confessed some awkward interest in Craig. This wasn’t about rebounding anymore, was it? Stan was not just the pliant, eager recipient of some lost affection. This was different. Maybe he was overthinking all of this, too, and being an idiot. His gaze slipped from Craig’s stormy eyes to his lips. He knew what they tasted like, felt like, and a hot shudder ran down his back. It was hard to tear his eyes away.

“Sorry,” he muttered, having the decency to be embarrassed, “this is...I mean, way too soon, you just barely stopped being upset over you know who, and...fuck. Sorry.”

 

Craig’s hand, idle on Stan’s shoulder until now, suddenly grabbed him, holding him in place.

“Don’t make that choice for me, please.” He said, quietly, but audibly still. Marsh was still looking away.

“Stan...” Craig found he sounded pathetic when he begged, but he didn’t want him to get up or even as much as move away or turn his head. Craig wanted this, with him, here and now. This was different than everything they’d had before, this was not about someone else, this was about both of them.

 

Stan was a soft-hearted fool at best. Someone speaking his name so softly, pleading for his understanding...that was kryptonite in its own right. He didn’t budge, didn’t move away from Craig, looking at him in the warm light of the fire. 

Yeah.

Yeah he could do this. His hands wandered up quickly, finding Craig’s face, gently grasping at his cheeks to tug him towards Stan. No one could look at him with such open vulnerability and expect Stan to be strong. He wasn’t capable of it. Besides. He wanted to do exactly what he was doing now. Stan met Craig’s lips softly, nothing like the kisses they’d shared before. It was just the two of them. No rebound, no tears, nothing but two vaguely broken hearts. The soft, gentle kiss was quick and innocent.

“I can’t stop thinking about what we did,” Stan muttered, happy to let go of every burden but this one tonight, “You...you made me forget everything. I want to feel like that again.”

Craig’s eyes opened slowly, he was still enjoying the lingering tingle on his lips. It felt like their first kiss. Stan’s words were as sweet as they were inviting. His other hand came up to rest on Stan’s thighs, a gentle, warm touch without much pressure. Craig leaned in and brushed the tip of his nose against the warm skin under Stan’s ear.

“I want you.” He confessed and it wasn’t everything he wanted to say but it felt like a part of it, even if it sounded somewhat desperate.

Reality was, Craig wanted everything of him, everywhere, on him and that feeling was so strong at the moment it left him little choice but to act on it. Soft kisses were placed along Stan’s jawline and when there was no protesting, Craig quickly started openly mouthing on his skin.

They both didn’t take much convincing. Stan could feel the cold slip out of his bones, the cloying, choking grasp of disappointment leave his mind. Craig was busy filling in for the sun, flooding Stan with warmth and drowning him in something light.

He welcomed it readily.

“You can have me. I’m good with that,” he muttered, breathing in deeply, shuddering only with pleasant anticipation. From his experience, Craig knew exactly how to make them have a good time. He was ready for it, whatever it included. Forgetting the world sounded like the absolute, best night he could hope for after what had happened.

Craig wanted to tell him that he didn’t understand, that that wasn’t all, but he was smart enough to press his mouth to Stan’s skin and keep himself from talking. Overwhelming him emotionally was probably not the way to go here, not when Stan’s pliant body was talking to him in a language Craig understood all too well. His hand on Stan’s shoulder still held onto his arm, squeezing him lightly, while the other one pushed up his shirt, feeling underneath it.

He could feel Stan shiver from the cold of his fingertips, but he didn’t say anything. Craig gently bit into his neck, sucked some skin into his mouth, but without leaving a mark, all while feeling him up. Once he had mapped out Stan’s abs properly, his hand went straight towards his belt, working it open, followed by the fly. Craig wasn’t really someone to play around, he would get straight to the matter at hand which, at the moment, was Marsh’s half-hard dick still in the confines of his shorts. His hand cupped it expertly, fingers playing along the shape of it, slowly working him into full hardness.

Craig wasn’t wasting any time. Stan could appreciate that, thoroughly. Not that he was in a mood to compare everything he knew right now, but there was an understanding about being with a guy that just didn’t stack up with the experiences Stan made with girls. Sure, there were a few eager ones out there, but they still liked to play around, touch and kiss and be talked into things. Craig Tucker?

Straight up had his hands down Stan’s pants, his wonderful, hot palm on Stan’s dick.

The isolation of the cabin encouraged Stan to moan. This was like what had happened in Token’s bathroom, but better. Stan wasn’t nearly as drunk, and he was painfully aware of the fact that he found Craig attractive. Like, really attractive.

“You’re really fucking hot,” Stan muttered, pulling his own shirt off completely. He wanted to try everything, all at once, and Craig was enabling this greedy desire, “can you...I mean, I really like how you touch my dick, but can you just...lay on me, for like a second? Without your shirt?” He should be embarrassed by his request, but all he felt was his dry, hungry throat.

 

Craig was thoroughly surprised be the question, but it sounded honest enough. He drew his hands back and dropped the blankets to shrug out of his jacket and then to pull his shirt over his head.  The cold hitting his skin wasn’t pleasant, but the look on Stan’s face made up for it and somehow, the perspective of being skin to skin with him was making Craig feel warm enough alright.

“Lay back and get comfy.” It was still an odd request, but Craig got into it fast. By the time Marsh had shuffled himself to lay there, in front of him, chest bare, jeans open, the outline of his hard dick slightly visible, his face slightly flushed… Craig swallowed, but his throat was dry. He moved in above him, making sure to not squeeze Marsh in anywhere, to not make him uncomfortable, before he lowered his body and finally let skin meet skin. It felt amazing, from the very first second on. Craig allowed himself to put more and more of his weight on him until he was almost fully resting on top of him. He could feel Marsh’s quick breath, every little shift, the warmth of his skin.

“Like this?” He whispered, close to Stan’s ear, breathless.

“Yeah,” Stan whispered back, even if there was no one around for miles to overhear them. Stan’s arms came up and locked around Craig, pressing him as close as he could. If he pretended to hear anything aside from the rush of blood in his ears, he would say that their hearts were beating together. The cheesiness of that was a balm on Stan’s soul. Someone was right there. And it was Craig Tucker, of all people.

And that was okay. Better than okay. Stan buried his face in Craig’s shoulder, cuddling what he could of him, breathing with him, existing only in this moment.

“You’ve got me, right?”

 

As soon as Craig had understood Stan wanted to be held, wanted to be close to him, Craig had obeyed, his arms coming around him as best as he could, his face buried in Stan’s neck.

“I’ve got you. As long as you let me.” A terribly cheesy thing to say, but he went there. Craig Tucker couldn’t help it, once he got to the emotional part of himself, he said things that were entirely diabetes-inducing all the time.

He wanted Stan, not just in a physical way, but in an overall way. In a way that included taking care of him, holding him, loving him, being there for him, giving his all to make him feel good.

 

It was more than just a simple hug and Stan could indulge in this for hours. Craig was heavy and warm and fit against him in all the right ways. Sure, it was hard to breathe like this, but Stan only needed the familiar scent of Craig in his nose anyway. His hands rubbed tiny circles on Craig’s skin, Stan entirely fascinated with how goosebumps followed his touch.

The world could go fuck itself tonight, as could every single person who had been at the football game.

“Careful what you say. You might have me forever.” It was whispered nonsense, but Stan smiled anyway.

“That doesn’t scare me in the slightest.” Craig’s reply was instant and he meant it. When he realised how close he was to the edge of something more than just flirty comments, Craig tried to dial it back. Difficult, yes, but this was still straight guy Stan. Coming onto him too hard (no pun intended) would probably end in rejection and Craig really didn’t want to stomach another one right now. So he didn’t say more than that, instead kept it at the same level and breathed into Stan’s neck, enjoying the way his hands on Craig’s back left goosebumps in their wake. He kind of left it to Stan to go on with this, he couldn’t do much except hold him and kiss his neck, slightly. Marsh was the one with the access.

“Nothing ever does, right?” Stan muttered, admiration swimming somewhere in his voice. What he’d said earlier, that he would like to be someone as strongly independent as Craig, he meant. With all of his being. 

And yet, Craig couldn’t be so detached as Stan and the world thought, because he was right here, attached to Stan, kissing him gently. 

“Hey. Want me to kiss your dick again?” he offered, pushing through the awkward, heavily emotional atmosphere, “It might taste like chipotle though.”

“As much as I wanna say yes, I know hot sauce burns like hell on dicks. So, I guess we have to skip the mouth on dick part.” Craig chuckled and pushed himself up on his arms, “Can’t deny it’s great to have you pinned like this though. Bet you’re the kinda guy to lose on purpose in wrestling matches just so you get sat on.”

There was some playful challenge in his words and Craig purposefully left Stan’s arms free so he could react. If they didn’t get frisky with each other, Craig at least wanted as much body contact as possible.

“Are you calling me a closet gay? Or like one of those ‘phobes that secretly wanna get railed?” Stan couldn’t help the laugh, even if he felt somewhat insulted to be put in one box with those kind of assholes. He took Craig up on that challenge anyway, his gentle circling turning into grabbing handfuls of Craig’s body and trying to throw him off balance.

Stan was immediately taken up on the challenge and their wrestling took them off of the couch soon enough by which point both of them decided to stop and return to the warmth of the blankets and each other on the old couch.

Falling asleep squeezed against Stan’s body, feeling content with where you were in the universe despite the game lost earlier… It made up for the lack of space and the rickety springs pinching his ass, Craig decided later that evening. Worth it, so to say.

 


	12. Into You [Kyle&Tweek]

“Okay, I think that’s enough water.”

Kyle examined the tank they’d put up on Tweek’s desk. There was no water leaking and the heating rod they’d added earlier seemed to work just fine, keeping the water at a nice 77°F. Perfect for their study objects, water fleas. Of all kinds of projects, Kyle loved biology the most. There was just something about finding out how organisms worked that he found fascinating and he was happy he’d found a partner to do the extracurricular with. Stan liked biology too, but he was too busy with football and after the lost game… Well, there hadn’t been much interest in anything but practice, really.

So he’d asked Tweek and here they were, preparing the tank for their Daphnia magna brood that was eventually to be exposed to nano tubes for a toxicity test which they’d have to write the report on.

“Can you put them in?”

Tweek wondered if they should put the thermometer in him, instead of the tank. He was burning up. His room wasn’t all that warm, but right now, it felt like a legitimate furnace, and he was a tiny piece of lint, burning up.  Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the fact that someone was in his room for anything other than...intimate activities. Or maybe that was the problem in itself. Kyle was just here, doing  _ homework _ when they were alone. Tweek’s parents had welcomed Kyle with a knowing look, before mysteriously vanishing on some errand for the shop.

Tweek no longer cared to ask them for any explanations. They were good people, but stupid. He’d almost forgiven them for all they fucked up in his early childhood. Almost. They made up for it by being easy to convince and manipulate when it came to situations like this.

And now Kyle was here, working away, entirely unaware of Tweek. Or his intentions. It was only slightly maddening. And after all the effort Tweek had put into his appearance, too! He wasn’t wrong about Kyle, was he? No, no he couldn’t be. He and the girls had done extensive research. Kyle Broflovski was probably not straight. Tweek wasn’t wasting his time, or his expensive aftershave.

“Sure,” he poured the creatures into the water, his eyes clinging to Kyle’s face. When was he going to notice any of Tweek’s preparations? Or maybe he already did? Fuck, this was so, so much harder than he pictured.

When Tweek leaned in to let the parent-generation of Daphnia into the water, Kyle noticed the scent of him. Some nice-smelling aftershave alright, it kind of made him want to put his face in the guy’s neck which was ridiculous altogether. He was here to do homework, not to descend into some gay madness with the nearest cute guy.

Kyle noticed he was looking at him and offered him a brief smile before he bent down quickly to note down the date and time of the start of their experiment.

Tweek had moved to kneel next to him for the request and Kyle did his best to pretend he had turned his leg to press against his purely by accident. The touch alone made Kyle feel warm and he almost forgot to put the lid onto the tank over it. During the past few days they’d been writing a lot of text messages, but hanging out with him was different entirely. It wasn’t like hanging out with Stan where Kyle knew what he could do and what he couldn’t do. This was… something else. In theory, just in theory, everything could happen, any second. The thought of that made Kyle giddy.

“So, I guess now we gotta wait until these things get it on. We need some more than these few for the experiment.”

Their legs were still touching. Kyle knew their task was over, for now, but he didn’t feel like leaving. 

 

“Cool. So we don’t have to do anything else? Should we play them some music to get them in the mood?” Tweek wondered if Kyle knew how beautiful he was. His green eyes, the long nose, those near-invisible freckles...It was doing something to Tweek, to realize he could just about try anything, and he still might get nowhere with this boy.

It was nerve-wracking. How did people do this every day?

But that’s what he’d told Craig, right? That both of them deserved to know what this felt like. Tweek was pretty sure he liked Kyle. When he wasn’t with McCormick (although Kenny was okay), Marsh (who turned into the most predictable kind of jock) and Cartman (still the worst person Tweek knew), Kyle was nice. Sweet. He kept his temper under wraps, and he was a smart guy with an oddly shy smile.

Tweek had sampled a taste at his gig, but he wanted more. He wanted to know this Kyle. He wanted him to himself, like a sweet little secret.

 

“Actually, I’ve read a theory saying they’re more happy to reproduce when being exposed to classical music.”

At Tweek’s expression, Kyle had to laugh. “Think we shouldn’t do that though, I mean, that’d not only make you cry but is also an experiment within the experiment, so no.” He looked at the tank again, closely, before leaning back, looking pleased. “No, we just gotta wait I guess. A few days, then we’ll have enough to start the tests. Alright. Think we’re done.”

Neither of them moved. Kyle sat there, his knee pressed against Tweek’s thigh, his arm tingling where it was only inches away from Tweek’s. He felt the burning need to say something, anything, just to make the situation less awkward, so Kyle heard himself speak.

“I like your shirt. Looks nice.” Especially the way it was thin enough for Kyle to have learned that Tweek’s tongue wasn’t the only part of him that was pierced, probably. What a dumb thing to say though, Kyle felt like an idiot. And yet, he didn’t get up and leave. This was different than with Stan. Tweek wouldn’t push him away and tell him he wasn’t into guys. He might not be into Kyle, but that he could stomach.

 

The body contact was  good start. Tweek could work with that, it was like a thin, little tightrope for him to climb across to get to Kyle.

“I like your hair. You should wear it like that all the time. It’s beautiful.” He was speaking his mind and testing the water. Nervously, his eyes ticked over Kyle, waiting for his reaction to the blatant compliment.

 

The fact that he was being complimented hit Kyle in the face and left him confused for a moment. His brain needed a few seconds to compute that Tweek had just called his hair beautiful, sounding like he meant it. He looked at Tweek’s face and found him staring again. Up until now he’d thought that was just a thing Tweek did, staring at people, but after what he’d just said… Maybe it wasn’t just a Tweek thing. Maybe it was because Tweek actually liked staring at him in particular.

Kyle felt his ears heat up, but he managed to answer.

“Thanks. That’s uhm… I don’t like it much myself, so that’s nice to hear.” Although Kyle had put effort into making it look like something today (which had lasted for about five minutes after he arrived here, but that was just how his hair worked).

 

“Is it super weird if I ask if I can touch it?” Tweek was on a trail now, and he’d just tasted first blood. Kyle had blushed, all the way up to his ears, and he had decidedly not freaked out about being flirted with.

Score.

So Bebe was wrong and Wendy was right. Kyle was, at the very least, curious.

“Because it looks super soft. You can touch me anywhere in turn, okay? Just to make it fair.”

 

Kyle was milliseconds away from questioning audibly how they’d gotten from school project to ‘touch me anywhere in turn’, but he managed to keep his composure and just roll with it. Props to Stan for holding long sermons about the importance of just rolling with it when making out. Before the incident, anyway, because the last time Kyle had turned his head off…

No, that didn’t fit here. Things were different. Tweek wasn’t Stan, decisively not.

“Sure, go ahead.” Kyle replied, leaning his head down a little bit, so Tweek had better access. If Tweek touching his hair meant that Kyle could possibly touch his pierced nipples… The thought alone was so nerve-wracking Kyle decided he wouldn’t go for that. He’d go for something tame instead, like Tweek’s hands. They looked rough, even for a guy, specifically with the scarred knuckles, but they played guitar like crazy.

 

“So soft...” Tweek petted Kyle’s hair with some care, trying desperately to dislodge the image playing on repeat in his mind. Kyle would look so nice on his bed, naked, with this bouncy, wild mane free and a little damp with sweat. Oh, Tweek would find all those hidden freckles, make Kyle sweat and moan...

Alright, maybe his long relationship with Craig had loosened his standards when it came to indulging in sexy fantasies. But this was all so exciting to experience without knowing the outcome. He swallowed and tried to keep some semblance of control over himself.

“Alright, your turn.” This was the make or break moment. Tweek rocked back a little, folding his hands into his lap, tongue flicking out to wet his lips nervously. He drummed a little staccato on his thighs.

 

At this point, Kyle was pretty sure the skin on his head was on fire. It seemed like all of his nerves were little magnets and they were all very eager to attach themselves to their counterpart, Tweek’s hand running through his hair.

When he sat back, Kyle battled the sensation just enough so he had his head clear. Because he was someone that prepared for things in advance, Kyle didn’t make a move and instead asked “Anywhere on you with anywhere on me?” The look Tweek gave him for that had Kyle embarrassed within a split-second. He raised his hands, “Shit, that’s not what I meant, I’m not gonna… I just wanted to be sure.” Kyle explained lamely.

 

“You can be sure,” Tweek raised his hands, trying to wave off Kyle’s anxiety along with his own. This was more awkward than anticipated, but if they got over this little hurdle, Tweek knew what to do. It was all new grounds, though, so he moved with the grace and confidence of a baby giraffe.

“Hey, Kyle, it’s really...fine. I just wanna get to know you better. Way better.”

 

Kyle, embarrassed but also reassured now, reached to catch one of Tweek’s hands out of mid-air and pulled it towards himself, fingers running over warm skin and slim, long digits. He’d been right, Tweek’s hands were kind of rough, but not unpleasantly so.  Without further thought, Kyle followed the notion he’d had earlier and leaned down, continuing his exploration of Tweek’s fingers. His own played with the digits, feeling calluses (from playing guitar, definitely), scrapes, old cuts. Tweek's hands were a maze of little stories. Whether he was clumsy or just hasty and hurt himself often wasn't clear. He had long fingers too, with bony little joints.

Kyle raised his head when his fingers slipped between Tweek's, only slightly awkward as he smiled.

 

Tweek had maybe been holding his breath during the whole episode. Kyle had no idea how soft and sensual he looked like that. Tweek found it entirely too appealing. His fingers groped for Kyle’s hand, pulling all of it tightly into his own, as if he planned to hold onto this forever.

When he spoke, his voice was just a little bit more breathless than it ought to be.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kyle could still say no, but hell, after THAT whole little thing, Tweek was pretty sure he was on the right path here. Okay, maybe he had hoped for this. Maybe he’d done the whole lips-to-hand thing because he’d wanted to end up here, like this, question posed at him in Tweek’s now slightly breathless voice.

 

Kyle had to admit that to himself and at the same time, he didn’t know what to do now. Suddenly, everything felt like it had just been a build-up to this very moment, the night spend after the gig, the texting and now this project. He met Tweek’s eyes, green and filled with something he now could finally identify.

Tweek wanted this, wanted _him_.

The notion was entirely alien to Kyle, that someone desired him like this, someone he liked as well, someone he could imagine things with and it stunned him momentarily. Tweek’s hand was warm on his, warm and his grip was tight, but not unpleasantly so. Like he really didn’t want to let go.

“Yes.”

 

Tweek smiled. Grinned, even, because this was confirmation. Kyle had done that on purpose. The research proved itself solid, because Kyle Broflovski was definitely interested in guys if he was so cool with getting kissed by Tweek.

Which, incidentally, was a thing he felt more comfortable with than asking if he could touch Kyle’s hair. His left hand stayed in Kyle’s, but his right was free to reach up and brush some unruly, red curls out of Kyle’s face. He had something aquiline about his features, his sharp cheekbones and thin lips. Tweek liked the effect, a little awkward, a little beautiful, but he adored those wide, green eyes the most. There was fire in them, usually, and they could blaze like an inferno. Right now, however, they were curious and focused on him.

“Thank God. I would have lost it if you said no.” He spoke quickly but didn’t give Kyle a chance to answer, lips pressed hungrily against Kyle’s.

 

One second ago his face had been caressed like Tweek was touching something precious, and now, there were lips against his own and all Kyle could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. The tip of his nose was squeezed against Tweek’s cheek and their position was kind of awkward this far apart, but after a moment of acclimatization, Kyle did his best to be as responsive as possible without trying to seem like he wanted to eat Tweek.

The kiss made him feel so warm he felt like taking off his clothes, but that was another step altogether. It felt like half of his brain had no brakes on the gay train anymore, now that he had actively been flirting with the same guy that was now kissing him. And how Tweek kissed him! 

With purpose, practiced, eagerly so. Hungry if anything and just thinking about that made Kyle’s head spin. He held on to Tweek’s hand and pulled him closer until their shoulders met and yet that wasn’t close enough. Kyle broke the kiss only to take advantage of one confused Tweek and shuffle over to straddle him, before bringing their lips together once more. Kyle might not be practiced at any of this, but he knew how to get to where he wanted to be.

 

Kyle made up for his lack in experience with pure enthusiasm. Tweek was pleasantly surprised to find him entirely eager and hey, in his lap. And yet, there was the slightest notion in his kiss, that he was waiting for Tweek to guide the way.  It was adorable.

Hunger and greed rose in Tweek, as did assured patience. He knew how to handle this kind of situation. With the amount of practice he’d gotten in in his young life, he was more comfortable with this than any sort of public date scenario. He slowed the kiss, turned it into some steadfast and alluring (if you could ever call a kiss that). His free hand drew Kyle as close as he dared and Tweek shifted the angles between them so that said free hand could roam over Kyle’s back, gently encouraging him to mould his torso against Tweek’s.

Making out was an artform that Tweek happily resumed practice for.

 

Now, Kyle had known that Tweek probably had a lot of practice, given he’d been with his first boyfriend for all these years. What he hadn’t been calculating with was just how far ahead of the game Tweek was. It was all the little things, how he seemed calm and relaxed during all of it, how he knew how to shift his body weight and move his limbs to encourage Kyle to pursue his own interests and at the same time get what he wanted out of it.

It was dizzying, not being handled but gently convinced and Kyle found himself easily agreeing, lining his torso up with Tweek’s. The full-on body touch between them (granted, with clothing) gave Kyle goosebumps and so did the fact that he was sitting in Tweek’s lap, on the floor of his room, making out with him. Kyle got experimental very soon, Tweek did lick his lips and Kyle returned the favor eagerly. The thought of feeling up the guy’s tongue piercing like this let a warm shudder run down his back.

Kyle was getting more confident and damn it if that didn’t turn Tweek on. He would have taken anything at this point, even a frigid, shy guy trying himself out for the first time. What he got instead though, was a million times better. He let Kyle lick his way into his mouth, their tongues touching tentatively at first. His piercing dragged over the invader, just a little, and he could feel Kyle twitch in his lap. So he liked that, huh?

He shifted their bodies a little, until he could take one of Kyle’s hands and guide it under his shirt. It might have been buttoned correctly today, but it was still loose enough to allow this kind of touch. Tweek shivered when Kyle’s palm dragged over his nipple and the metal in it. Hopefully, that was enough of a hint.

As if getting acquainted with Tweek’s tongue piercing hadn’t been enough of a hint to him that yes, he, for some reason, was really into piercings, now his palm was clearly able to feel the metal in the guy’s goddamn _nipple_ and Kyle absolutely couldn’t help the way his breath hitched and his dick twitched with interest. This was insane. A moment ago they’d been doing homework and here they were, Tweek obviously encouraging him to be even more explorative about things.

Kyle took the invitation, out of curiosity, out of eagerness to please, out of his own horniness, he didn’t know anymore. Tentatively, he circled a thumb around the metal-imbued nub before he carefully rubbed over it, waiting for Tweek’s reaction.

Every single one of Kyle’s senses was honing in on Tweek and that was a state of mind Kyle hadn’t really been in before. He hadn’t gotten frisky with anyone like this, and it blew his mind easily.

 

Tweek offered Kyle a sweet little sigh, dispersed by their kiss, drowned in Kyle’s mouth. He was definitely enjoying the moment, and all of Tweek’s concerns about whether or not he was reading the signs wrong had disappeared. This was great, and comfortable, and he didn’t want it to stop.

However, he also didn’t want to rush into anything. This was only the second time he’d managed to pry Kyle into being alone with him and he didn’t want to scare the guy off. No matter how confident the kiss had proceeded, it was time to check in with Kyle. So he parted their lips, his eyes cloudy and maybe just a touch blissful.

“Did you like that?” he whispered, keeping Kyle close and not breaking eye contact with him.

 

Only then Kyle noticed how he’d gotten completely carried away with the kiss, the touches between them and he woke up from his stupor looking slightly embarrassed.

“A lot.” Kyle answered truthfully, voice low as well. He withdrew his hand from under Tweek’s shirt reluctantly, fingertips still tingling with where he’d felt him up, “I’d uh, do it again. Any time, really.”

Was that too cheap? Shit, Tweek probably thought he was easy now.

“With you, I mean.” He added and felt even more stupid for it. They weren’t twelve anymore, he was supposed to be a bit smoother about things, right?

 

Tweek gave him a smile for his honesty. Kyle was so refreshingly enthusiastic, and yet so fragile about his wonder. As if he’d never made out with anyone in his life. As if Tweek had given him something special, on this rainy Sunday afternoon. 

“Would you?” Sweet, sweet Kyle had even given him a very easy path to asking a very important, yet simple question.

“Would you date me? I mean, do you think you want to openly say you like boys? Because I, I do, I really like you.”

 

Thunderstruck, Kyle stared at him. That was a little fast even for his quick brain to process. Date him? Like, boyfriend kinda date him?

“I, uh… I’m…” He realised he was stuttering around and Tweek was looking less confident the more he went on and Kyle definitely didn’t want him to take this the wrong way and go back on his offer.

So he cleared his throat and reached for Tweek’s hand, squeezing it a little before looking at him straight up, voice unwavering when he spoke, “I’d really like you to be my boyfriend, Tweek.”

 

“Oh, wow, alright, okay, I was thinking we could date, but if you’re cool with a boyfriend,” Tweek shrugged his shoulders and swallowed down a swarm of butterflies. This part was surprisingly easy. As easy as it had been to date Craig, he’d wager. Whether or not that meant everything else would go as smoothly, he really couldn’t say. And honestly, he had enough time to freak out about the implications of dating Kyle (not-out-of-the-closet-Kyle, all-my-friends-are-assholes-Kyle) Broflovski at another time. Right now, he had a cute, flustered redhead on him, his parents weren’t home and there was definitely a lingering, addictive taste to Kyle’s mouth that he had to try again.

“Fucking okay,” he grinned, a flash of confidence to his usually so jittery features, “So we can get back to kissing.”


	13. Hellfire [Stan&Craig]

“And you call that a throw? Your grandpa could throw further than that, and he’s dead. Are you listening? You think you’ve got it all, you’re a real hot shot, yeah, ooh, look at Stanley Marsh, he’s got football in his blood, he’s gonna go to the NFL one day. Not with sloppy shit like that. No one’s gonna hand you anything unless you work for it. I can’t believe you think you’re such hot shit that you would be skipping practice, who do-”

“Dad. It was one day.” Stan groaned. The bridge of his nose was starting to ache from how hard he was pinching it, but what else could he do? Randy should be at work, and he shouldn’t be riding Stan’s back like this, considering he knew little of how much time his son actually spent on football, but Randy was never very good at doing what he was supposed to. His enthusiasm for Stan’s career mirrored the whole town’s sentiment, and it hounded Stan’s every moment of his home life. His mother, usually an effective silencer of his father’s pushy, semi-drunk tirade, was out today and it explained a) Randy’s drunken state mid-afternoon and b) why he had even received the phonecall from the coach about Stan’s absence from today’s practice.

Consequently, he’d followed Stan around for the better part of twenty minutes, angrily beseeching him. Stan grabbed his keys out of the bowl in the hallway and headed for the door. Randy kept speaking, but his voice was nothing short of a blurred repetition in Stan’s head.

He pushed his dad aside, much to Randy’s chagrin, and slammed the door shut in his face. He needed to get out of here, get some air, some way to calm down. Briefly, he glanced at the Broflovski house, but Kyle’s window was dark. He was probably at one of his many extracurriculars or something. Stan got into his jeep, gripping the steering wheel; there was only one person he wanted to see right now. Not to talk. No, they didn’t need to talk.

 

The Tucker house swam into view minutes later and Stan found himself on their doorstep, ringing their bell, before he could think about what he was doing.

It opened about half a minute later and Stan was faced with Laura Tucker. She was surprised at first to see him, but offered him a brief smile nonetheless.

“Stanley, good to see you. Come in.” Her voice had a nasal tone to it that was very similar to her son’s, but she seemed friendly enough. The door was held open for Stan to enter and closed behind him.

Craig’s mom turned towards the stairs and called loudly.

“Craig! Get down here.”

 

Ten seconds later, a door was ripped open upstairs and Craig’s voice answered, sounding pissy. “Will you fuck off with the trash? I can’t do it right now, I said I was cleaning the cages.”

 

“You have a visitor, young man. Come down here or I’ll get up there and make you.” Laura pushed her hands onto her hips. She wasn’t small, but not as tall as Craig or even Stan.

A groan from upstairs, a door closed, then Craig came down the stairs. His annoyed scowl only changed ever so slightly when he saw Stan. It turned to surprise.

  
“Marsh.” He said when he approached him, “What’s up?”

 

Stan was politely quiet as Laura called for her son, but he couldn’t help but notice how much Craig sounded like his mother. Did all of the Tuckers have that nasal tone? He realized he hadn’t been at Craig’s house since he was a child. Huh. He remembered it bigger than it was. When Craig finally showed up and relieved Stan of his awkward social solitude with his mother, his tightly controlled expression slipped into an equally awkward smile.

“I, uh, probably shoulda text you first, huh? Just...wanted to hang out.” And vent about his parents, but that was not gonna happen with Craig’s mom standing right there, eyeing him.

 

Craig shrugged, acutely aware of his mom’s presence. “Wouldn’t have seen a text anyway, I’m… cleaning up. You allergic to sawdust? If not, then come upstairs with me.” He stepped to the side to be polite enough to let Stan take the stairs before him.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she could read between the lines her son spoke in very well. She reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly and Craig let it happen for a brief moment before he pulled his arm away. His mom knew that much was clear and knowing her, she already knew more than he did which irked him, but also reassured him. She would be at his side, no matter what, even if he really got to date the town’s beloved golden boy.

He pulled away to follow Stan, but turned around half way on the stairs to flip her off, lovingly, before he saw fit to instruct his guest on where to go.

“First door, right side. Be careful when you open, Wiggle escaped earlier.”

His room was a mess, sawdust everywhere and bags filled with it, guinea pig entertainment toys spread on his floor.

 

Stan didn’t stop to ask who Wiggle was, not when he pulled the door open and heard squeaking. Ah. So Craig was still into keeping guinea pigs as pets. Strange but oddly adorable, in the way that it just didn’t suit the rest of Craig Tucker to be a fan of small, furry animals. But Stan wasn’t about to complain. Immediately, he looked at the floor, just in case the critters were loose and underfoot.

“How many do you have?” he was also immediately distracted from his woes. Animals of all sizes and shapes were preferable to people and Stan would prefer to discuss them over any other part of life, really. Even with Craig. “Are they shy? Can I pet one?”

If Craig hadn’t already had the suspicion that he found Stan Marsh more than just vaguely physically attractive, he would have had a hard clue now with the way the guy’s excitement about his beloved guinea pigs made his heart skip a beat.

While he was already slowly settling down on the floor to look out for Wiggle, he realised that Stan was here, in his home, his room, about to interact with his pets. Something that Craig hadn’t ever entrusted anyone but his closest friends and Tweek to. It hurt to think about how gentle Tweek had been with them, how much they recognized him and how he felt almost like a single dad with them now.

And here was Stan, looking excited about getting to know Wiggle and Stripe #13.

“A bit shy, yeah. But that’s fine. Wiggle is more curious, Stripe’s a pussy. Like his predecessors before him. Here.”

He’d extracted Wiggle from behind his nightstand and handed him to Stan, carefully, ensuring that he had the right grip on him.

“You can sit on the bed. This is Wiggle. He’s a Peruvian guinea pig. Yeah, I know. I had to.”

 

Stan bit back a laugh so he wouldn’t startle the little bundle of fur in his hand. Wiggle looked at him from beneath long, black tufts of fur, and he didn’t look all that scared. Much the opposite. An offended squeak left him when Stan took too long to release him on his lap once he’d sat down on the bed (so as to avoid the open cages and plethora of toys).

“Really dude? I think part of you remembers Peru fondly. You can deny it all you want.” Stan let Wiggle run around, but he carefully hemmed his lap so that those eager little feet didn’t send Wiggle tumbling off of him. “You’re so cute,” he muttered as the guinea pig checked if any part of Stan’s jeans was edible, “those little feet...and you got that maverick haircut. Stealing my heart, you little thief. Aaaand he pooped.” 

This time, Stan did laugh, the little pellets not exactly the worst thing he’d ever had on him.

 

Craig stared at him, dustpan and brush in hand to get rid off the sawdust disaster on the floor, but that was all forgotten because Stan Marsh had just catapulted himself right into the pole position for being the next guy to break Craig’s heart. Even the thought of that didn’t scare him off, didn’t even deter him in the slightest. Stan looked like a dream come true, right on his bed, guinea pig poop on his jeans.

It took him ten whole seconds to finally react to what Stan had said and another two to walk over to him and brush the droppings onto the dustpan to go into the trash with all the other old sawdust.

“Just to make things clear, I did not enjoy anything about Peru. Your gang still sucks ass.” All of them, except Stan himself. Craig quickly busied himself with closing the trash bag. If his mom saw through him so easily, he really must have it bad for the guy. And that, even when Tweek was still teetering on the edge of his mind, often, the memory of him still rather fresh.

Craig collected all the guinea pig toys and began decorating the fresh layer of sawdust with them. In one of the houses, he found Stripe.

“There he is. Number thirteen.” He put him on the bed as well for Stan to see.

 

“Can I pick him up?” Stan opened his lap to one side so Wiggle could wander off onto the bed. The two guinea pigs squeaked at each other and scuttled around, doing what they would usually, not at all disturbed by Stan’s presence.

Stan, who was struggling to keep himself from flat out grinning at Craig. His grievances at home were half-forgotten already, extinguished by the fact that Craig Tucker kept the smallest, fluffiest pets and named them _Wiggle_ and _Stripe. 13._

“They’re really fucking cute, Tucker.”

 

“Yes, they are.”

Craig confirmed, fingers busy hiding treats inside of the cage. He’d bitten back a retort of ‘so are you’ that had been on the tip of his tongue. At least he wasn’t putting it on too thickly here, he didn’t want to scare Marsh off. If there even was a chance at all, he didn’t want to ruin it with some thoughtless flirting attempt. 

When he was done and the cages were as good as new and ready for their inhabitants, he came over to the bed and, very carefully, sat down. Wiggle came over immediately to gnaw on the ties of his jogging pants. Gently, he rubbed the pads of his fingers over Wiggle’s long fur and looked over at Stripe.

“Hold out your hand.” He advised and leaned over to put one of the treats from his pocket into Stan’s palm. His voice was warm and full of care for his critters when he spoke next.

“Little pussy’s a sucker for treats.”

 

“Maybe stop calling your guinea pig a pussy,” Stan muttered, but did as he was told. Low and behold, Stripe was on his hand like a small, furry caterpillar with feet. Stan wiggled his fingers to brush over his fur, which Stripe endured graciously. Craig’s preference of pets was still kind of stumping him. There wasn’t much you could do with guinea pigs other than this, right? Which meant that Craig Tucker, the guy who collected  _teeth_ from his own fights, spent an inordinate amount of time curled up with tiny, fluffy squeakers. It was so fucking cute that Stan could choke on it.

“So...what happened to Stripe one through twelve?”

 

“Mom stepped on the original one and broke his back. Number Two disappeared and Number Three died of poison. Probably my dad after Three pooped in the living room. Four died two years ago and then I got tired of going for numbers in a row and went for Thirteen instead. Sounds cooler.” Carefully, he took Wiggle onto his thigh to pet him a little more. “They calm me down. That’s why I love them. I can’t be pissed when I’m around them.”

He didn’t look at Marsh nor did he make any moves to do so, but he was sharing something personal with Stan here.

 

Stan buried his comment about how horrible those fates were, mostly because Craig was being very open with him right now, and even a dense motherfucker like Stan Marsh understood when someone was opening up to him.

He gently petted Stripe, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t embarrass Craig.

“Sparky used to cheer me up whenever I was down,” he offered in turn.

 

Craig faintly remembered Sparky and the fact that the dog had been gay. Or titled as such, based on his affinity for other male dogs.

“You’re a dog person all over. Don’t ask me why.” Not because Craig didn’t know what to say, he did know. Stan was a good friend who would most definitely bare his teeth and growl if his friends were in any sort of pickle. He was a loyal person and could be made happy with small treats. Craig didn’t want to tell him all this though because it sounded cheesy and like the only thing he thought about was Stan. Which wasn’t all that wrong, but well. It would probably be scary for him.

 

“But I want to know why. You can’t just go and say shit like that without backing it up, Tucker.” Stan looked up from Stripe and watched Craig carefully now. They’d gone from opening up about feelings to comparing each other to...what, animals? Or was this just an acknowledgement that Craig remembered things about Stan? Either way, he was ready to explain a thing or two to Craig. Since his surly friend wasn’t giving him the explanation Stan demanded.

“Well, you’re a guinea pig person. You wanna know why?”

Craig looked up at him, finally, question in his bright blue eyes. Marsh really seemed to take this topic serious.

“Why?”

“Well, you got fluffy hair and sweaty feet and you too would shit on someone if you had the chance.” Stan was very proud of his explanation and chuckled to himself as he scooped Stripe up, ready to return him to the cage alongside Wiggle’s fluffy butt.

 

That actually put a smile on Craig’s face and he snorted when he grabbed Wiggle gently and followed Stan’s example.

“I shit on people all the time, not just if I have the chance, Marsh.” Standing behind Stan like that who took it upon himself to close the cage, Craig had the urge to put his hands on Marsh’s arms and hold him, just a moment, maybe put his face in Stan’s neck. But that would be too much, in this situation. This wasn’t like some thing at a party or something to forget a painful game lost. Nevertheless, Craig could not, for the love of it, move and leave the situation, so he stood there, almost directly behind him, his chest almost against Stan’s back.

 

Once his hands were clear of guinea pigs, Stan could focus on what Craig had said. Or rather, what it meant that he didn’t just veto Stan’s evaluation. He was so close that Stan could feel his breath on his neck and yeah, maybe that was giving him goosebumps. It was easy to lean back and have his shoulders bump into Craig’s chest.

“Yeah? Coulda fooled me. You’re all kinds of soft on the inside.” Stan turned, mostly because he didn’t want Craig to punch him in the back. Instead, he wrapped his arms around him (somewhat like a crab, clutching prey to be honest).

 

Even if the embrace was kind of awkward, Craig let it happen. Stan smelled like his usual body spray and something underneath that Craig knew now after spending many hours with him that was so undeniably Stan it made his mouth water. With Stan’s claw-like grip on him, he couldn’t do much but lean forward and against him slightly, carefully testing the waters. When Stan didn’t push him or himself away, didn’t break the contact, Craig put his head next to Marsh’s and leaned it against his, cheek to cheek.

“You’re a good friend, Stan. You make puppy eyes when you want something and wag your tail when you’re happy.” Craig didn’t laugh but he left a pause for Stan to snort, before he continued, voice quiet but warm, “You cheered me up and were there for me when I felt down.”

“Are you calling me your dog right now?” Stan whispered, but his tone implied nothing but warmth. This was...such a real moment, right here, with Craig. Their friendship was weird, but Stan liked it, and he supposed that’s why he’d come to the Tucker house in the first place. Because Craig made him give less of a shit about the world at large. He was somehow exactly what Stan needed to forget what shit went on at his home.

 

“Craig! Your friend can have dinner with us! Ten minutes!”

 

Craig heard his mother, but didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hands and put them on Stan’s back, gently squeezing them together. He didn’t want family dinner to ruin what he had with him and knowing his dad, things were surely not gonna go by without comment.

  
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.” Craig said quietly, as if Stan knew what would await him at the dinner table. If he knew who had been the last person to stay over for dinner at the Tucker’s house. If he knew how quick his dad was to add two and two together. Telling him anything else was weird thought because that included the explanation for why exactly his dad would act like that.

“Hey, it would be rude if I just take off. Besides...I don’t really want to be at home right now.”

Because Randy was damn sure not hitting that hungover state just yet and his mom had tickets for some musical she was seeing in Denver with Shelly. The promise of another endless tirade and a sad TV dinner was enough to make Stan willingly endure whatever passed as dinner at the Tucker house. Craig still hadn’t pulled away and Stan pressed their cheeks together for a moment.

“I didn’t even tell you why I came over, but you already fixed it, mostly.”

 

“Damn, I’m good.” Craig murmured, the desire to just pull his head back and turn a press of cheeks into a press of lips together burning brightly inside of him. Stan was broad and warm in his arm. Craig’s hands rubbed his back ever so slightly, before he made himself let go off him. 

“Let’s hope this dinner doesn’t make you wanna throw up.”

-x-

It wasn’t really the food that was gonna make people throw up, no, Laura Tucker was just fine at playing provider to her family. The food wasn't the problem at all.

Craig knew from the moment his dad’s eyes had wandered from Stan to him that he had made the connection successfully. The only other guy to have dinner with them since Craig had been ten had been Tweek Tweak and every single person in South Park knew they hadn’t just been friends. And now Stan was sitting there, not in Tweek’s old spot, no, Craig was sitting there now, but him trying to cover it up too seemed to annoy Thomas.

He didn’t really know what was coming for him and Craig felt nauseous already.

 

“So, Stan, I guess the college offers are coming in? Hope you’re aiming further than Denver.” Craig’s dad sent him a smile as he piled food on his plate, “You’re gonna make it far, for sure. If you don’t let people know. You know, it’s a bit like in the army, don’t ask, don’t tell.”

 

Craig quickly stuffed food in his mouth to not say anything. His mom exchanged a look with him. It was best to not argue with Thomas Tucker, otherwise they’d never finish dinner in peace.

 

Stan was an awkward new limb, attached to a hand that didn’t need him there. At least, that’s how he felt, politely keeping his eyes on his food and not commenting on anything about the meal or the conversation. But Craig’s dad insisted on speaking to him, just as Craig’s sister insisted on staring at him. Thomas, however, was more of a bother than Tricia’s vicious stare.

“Were you in the army, Mr Tucker? My uncle Jimbo used to be.” Stan had no idea what Craig’s dad was getting at. Don’t ask don’t tell? Tell what? He felt like he was missing the point, but maybe, if he changed the subject, it wouldn’t matter.

 

“Ah, yes, Jimbo. His guns still selling well? I assume people wanna be safe around when times are changing like this. Refugees coming from everywhere these days.”

 

Craig concentrated on his toast still. He disagreed with his dad on many things, but had learned that there was no way to argue with him as long as he lived under his roof.

That didn’t mean that his comments didn’t rile him up though. But there was really only one topic Thomas Tucker would probably never let go off.

 

“Did you hear about the guy and his kid that moved to West Street? He’s pretending to be gay so he gets money from the government.”

 

“Pretending to be...?” Stan glanced to Craig, subtly. His own dad was saying some pretty messed up things, and it surprised Stan that his friend had nothing to say about it. At school, if anyone had the gall to be remotely intolerant, Craig never hesitated to put his fist in their face, or give them an acid earful.

“I don’t think anyone wants to pretend to be a marginalized group, sir,” he phrased it carefully, but he could feel anger build up. This was like dealing with his dad’s shit about Stan’s football career. Ignorance and persistence in all the wrong places, “It’s still really hard to be gay today.”

Craig was both glad and ashamed about Stan’s words. He should be the one saying this, standing up to his dad, but he’d tried one too many times. It wasn’t like he had a chance here. At school, sure, he could fuck someone up for spewing shit like this, but his dad was his dad. Craig couldn’t beat up his dad. Didn’t dare to.

 

Thomas frowned, shrugged and nodded towards Craig. “Don’t see him having any problems with it. Or do you, Craig?”

There was feeling ashamed and there was being shamed in front of someone you liked and Craig felt like the latter was happening to him right now. He knew he didn’t want to rile his dad up more, that would only end in Stan seeing even more of the shit show that happened whenever something remotely connected to Craig’s sexuality came up.

“No, dad. I don’t have problems.” He felt Stan’s eyes on him and stared at his food, wishing he would just disappear. Stan expected and needed help, at least some, because his point was valid and Craig loved him for trying it.

“That doesn’t mean others don’t though.”

Laura, who saw her husband sitting up straight, clearly aiming for their oldest child with a devastating comment now, shot up from the table and reached for the salad, heaping lots of it onto Thomas’ plate.

“Thomas, your mother called about the visit in summer…”

 

“Later," Thomas waved off the obvious diversion, focused on staring his son down. It wasn't often he had such a prime opportunity to expand on his views, especially not with an audience.

"Craig, son, what do you mean? What problems are they supposed to have? We have equal rights now. Gays can even get married. That's enough, don't you think? There's being fair and there's being greedy. The gays have enough in this country. Or do you want to be treated special, Craig? Is that what gays want?"

“No, dad.” Craig’s mood had arrived at zero and was pushing lower still. It used to make him sad, now it made him sad and angry. He swallowed it all though, knowing it would only get worse. When Thomas was briefly busy with his salad, Craig managed to look over at Stan, apology in his eyes.

Stan didn’t come here to start a fight with Craig’s dad, but he couldn’t stand to hear how the man talked. And how quickly Craig folded. It would be entirely impolite to Mrs Tucker to get up and throw his plate at Mr Tucker in protest to the crap spewing out of his mouth.

“Mr Tucker, that’s completely ignorant bullshit.” Okay, he also couldn’t hear the kind of bible-thumping garbage coming out of Thomas Tucker’s mouth anymore. Even Randy wasn’t this fucking ignorant, nevermind that their issues were completely different.

"How can you sit there and say something like that, right in front of your own son? You're a disgrace, sir, and you should be ashamed of yourself."

And _just_ like that, he’d probably just been uninvited from dinner at the Tucker house ever again.

 

Stan's outburst left all of the Tuckers speechless, first and foremost Thomas himself followed by his daughter who stared in awe at Stan. Craig exchanged a brief glance with his mom before he pushed his chair back, audibly, and got up.

“Let’s go, Stan.” His hand found Marsh’s shoulder and he nearly pulled him out of his chair, herding him out. Before they arrived at the door, Craig raised his hand to flip his dad off, the gesture followed up by his mom. Tricia groaned and flipped everyone off including Craig and Stan.

 

“You all fucking suck!” She complained and went to stomp up the stairs.

 

Craig pulled the door shut behind him and exhaled. He still couldn’t look at Stan, really. It was nice of him to stand up to his dad, but wasn’t gonna do anything in the long run. Thomas Tucker made the world fit his own, narrow mind, no matter how many attempts there'd been at swaying his opinion. From tolerant to barely acknowledging, their relationship had only worsened over the years. When Craig was a child, Thomas had seen the damage he'd done, emotionally, reflected in Craig himself. Over the years, all of that vanished, and so did Thomas' understanding. Now, it was this tense thing that hung over the Tucker house that no one wanted to address.

Except Stan, who'd just put his entire foot in the steaming pile.

 

At least Craig had fed his guinea pigs. He wouldn’t have to sneak back home some time during the night to avoid his dad.

“Sorry about that.” Craig said, quietly.

 

“Craig, what the fuck? Is your dad always like that?” Stan recognized that the two of them were running away from any potential consequences, and that he’d probably worn out his welcome at the Tuckers’ house forever.

Still. When he heard vile bullshit like that, he needed to say something, even if it helped no one. Stan couldn’t abide any more smalltown thinking.  “That’s fucked up. Why didn’t you say anything? What a dick.”

Craig shrugged, eyes clinging to the ground in front of him.

“‘s not like it helps if I say something. I’ve tried, man. But I live in this place and as long as I do, I gotta swallow his bullshit. Or I can’t go out anymore. Or he takes Stripe and Wiggle. Or some other shit that I really don’t wanna put up with.” It was horribly embarrassing to admit this to Stan who thought it was impossible to disturb him in any sort of way. Craig pushed his hands into his pockets, looking back at the house, uncomfortable.

Stan didn’t make any move to invite him, and that wasn’t really surprising after what had just happened.

“I’ll just go for a walk.”

 

“Nah, fuck that. Get in.” Stan gestured to his jeep as he unlocked the driver’s side door. He was too angry to worry about how rude he’d been to Craig’s parents. If they decided to call his dad, whatever. What was Randy gonna say? With his thinly veiled attempts to be PC, it might even be a point where Randy agreed with Stan.

“KFC or White Castle?”

The dinner had been far from enough to fill Stan up and nothing eased a troubled mind like greasy food. Plus, there was that store that sold Stan whatever he wanted (thanks Kenny) and he was definitely stopping by there.

 

Craig took him up on the offer without hesitation. He didn’t really want to be alone and hanging out with Stan was usually something that took his mind off of things. The inside of the Jeep was cold, but it felt way better than being in his house.

“White Castle, I need twenty sliders at least.”

 

\--x-x--

Fanart of this scene by my lovely rp partner:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fanart tumblr link
> 
> http://maelikki.tumblr.com/post/171762692614/the-very-moment-craig-tucker-learned-he-had-the


	14. Glitter&Gold [Kyle]

Despite having a (secret) boyfriend, Kyle’s first natural reaction had been to ask Stan about this. When the invitation letter from California State for the entry exam came in too late (thanks to one drunkass mailman) and there were only two weeks left to organise some sort of transport there, Kyle had turned to his best friend first.

He knew about Stan’s obligations as starting QB for the Lions, but somehow he’d thought there would maybe be some sort of chance for them. Some sort of slip in time where everything would be like it had been what felt like ages ago, just him and Stan against the world sort of thing.  Reality had come back pretty quickly to him, in the shape of one apologizing Stan Marsh who seemed honestly sorry that he had to decline. State Championship was coming closer, the Lions had made it to the playoffs successfully and Kyle was a little bit angry with himself that he’d even hoped for Stan to have time for this.

He knew how hard he worked, that there was no way Stan could spare a few days’ time to go with him on a road trip. State Championship was Stan’s very own ticket to college.  

 

With his own mom and Ike visiting their family in New York and him just recently having recovered from an ear infection, there was no way he’d go with his dad or take a plane either.

Which led to him being where he was right now, inside of the Tweaks’ coffee shop, letter in hand.

Tweek looked good in the barista attire, but there were people here, Tweek’s dad even, and Kyle really wasn’t one for PDA.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked, waving the paper a little bit. “It’s urgent.”

 

Tweek didn’t hate working in the coffee shop anymore, but he did find it incredibly boring. Ever since he put his foot down with his parents about the shit they fed him, he was much more in control of his life. It was that, or break down under the incompetence of the Tweaks. 

Anyway.  Being a barista forced him to be social and deal with his twitches, so he was well practiced at pretending nothing was ever wrong with him in the first place.

“Hey,” it was definitely a good perk to his day to see his boyfriend, even if no one else really knew about them yet (mostly because that’s how Kyle wanted it to be and Tweek respected his need to come out at his own pace).

“Sure. Let’s go to the back.” He bit back a smirk, hoping that this need to ‘talk’ was actually a need to make out.

 

Kyle was oddly nervous as he followed him to the storage room. Maybe it was because Tweek, at the moment, seemed like his only chance to make it to the exam on his own terms. That or he’d have to ask Kenny but Kyle really didn’t want to take the risk of it. Kenny had just recently lost his license and Kyle would forever be mad if they got stopped by the police and he didn’t make it to the exam.

As soon as he’d closed the door behind them, Kyle held the paper up in Tweek’s surprised face.

“I need to get to California State in five days. You’re my only hope. Can I count on you?”

 

“Wha-What?” Tweek couldn’t even read the paper, on account of it being too close to his face. He could barely make out a stamp, something that confirmed ‘California State’. Kyle’s words rattled around in his head.

“Why do you need me?” He was pretty sure Kyle could afford to fly, though he did immediately have to think of a roadtrip with his boyfriend, which may or may not be an absolute bingo on spending time together. They wouldn’t have to skip class, either (not that Tweek had a problem with that, but a trip to Cali was at least two if not three days), since they had a small break coming up.

 

“Road trip.” Kyle stated matter-of-factly, “I can’t go by plane cause of the ear thing I had last week, remember? If I fly now I’m pretty sure my ears are going to explode.”

Tweek looked surprised but not too put off. Kyle exhaled to calm himself down and reached for Tweek’s hand instead. It was warm and slightly rough, as usual. This chaste touch alone made his skin tingle, but he squeezed the hand gently, looking up at Tweek (yeah, it was still odd that he was about two inches taller than him).

“I need you to come with me. Road trips alone are bullshit and I thought we could, uh, maybe...” He paused briefly, feeling his cheeks redden the longer he waited before he finally bursted out, “Maybe we could spend some time alone together.”

 

“I’m in.”

Tweek would have tried to help out anyway, considering how much he liked Kyle and hello, he had a pretty good set of wheels to take on a roadtrip, but the fact that Kyle was blushing cutely and basically implying that they would spend some intimate time together sealed the deal. The grasp on Kyle’s hand tightened for a moment, Tweek feeling both excited and nervous. This would be the first time he ever did something that sounded very romance-novel-esque and he was down to make it an experience to remember.

“When do we need to go?”

 

Kyle’s face lit up and he squeezed his hand some more, interlinking their fingers.

“Day after tomorrow, I think? I gotta look it up.”  There was a brief pause in which Kyle folded the letter and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket, before he reached to grab his boyfriend by the hem of his apron and pull him down to catch his lips in a soft kiss.  Doing that still felt new and exciting, but in the few days they’d been together now, he’d learned that Tweek was pretty much okay with everything Kyle came up with, be it kissing or touching or accepting that he couldn’t come out just yet. 

Actually, Kyle had no idea how to tell his parents what was going on. Maybe this road trip would help him figure it out. If anything, it made him get to know Tweek better which could give him the necessary resolve to deal with potential backlash. Tweek returned the kiss in that slow, gentle way that made Kyle’s knees feel like jelly, but when he heard someone at the door, Kyle quickly took two steps back and cleared his throat.

“So, uh, I’ll text you, okay?”

Kissing and touching was completely okay, so was texting Tweek and taking him on a roadtrip. He’d think about the implications of what it meant to be alone and entirely depending on each other for a couple of days. It sounded great now, but his paranoia would absolutely tell him tonight in how many ways this could go wrong. Tweek was okay with that too. His skitty nature and mood swings helped him figure out the worst case scenario, and in turn, prepare for it.

“Yeah. Text me. I’ll be ready with my chariot of fire.”

Kyle beamed at him for that, checked the door behind him for a second before he pressed another quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips.

The day was definitely saved.

 

-x-

 

Sitting on Stan’s bed wasn’t anything out of the usual, Kyle had sat on his bed many times before. Now though, knowing what he was going to tell him, it felt odd waiting here for his super best friend to finish his shower.

Stan had just finished mowing the lawn when Kyle had come over, unable to keep the secret from his best friend any longer.

He’d thought about it on his way back from the Tweaks’ coffee shop and came to the conclusion pretty quickly that it really only had advantages if he told Stan everything. When he entered the room, in comfy looking pants and an old shirt, towel over his head, Kyle thought he looked cute, but the deep yearning he’d felt for a long time was missing, luckily.

“Hey. Didn’t mean to stress you out, just need to, uh, tell you something. That ok? Can you close the door?”

 

“I’m not...ok. Hold on.” Stan pulled the door shut, an ominous feeling creeping up in his chest. Was Kyle going to repeat what had happened last summer? Stan hoped not. He didn’t know if their friendship was strong enough to weather another attempt. Maybe he was being too paranoid. Kyle hadn’t been hanging out with him much lately. Maybe this was just the reprisal about California State.

“Alright, what’s up dude?” he kept his tone light as he sat down at his desk, twisted around to look at Kyle.

 

Now that Stan was looking at him, expectant and something else in his eyes, Kyle promptly forgot the words he was going to use.

Instead, he stared at Stan, then managed to look at his fingers, briefly, fiddling with them.

“Uh, so, uhm… I found someone to go to Cali with.” He looked up, but before Stan could say something he continued, “That’s only half of what I wanted to tell you, the other half, uh, is secret. Like, super secret. Nobody can know kinda secret.”

Kyle didn’t need to tell Stan that he expected him to be sworn to secrecy, he was his super best friend he could trust him to do so without saying so explicitly.

“I’m going with my… my…” Stan’s blue eyes were filled with confusion and Kyle gathered all his courage. This was his best friend. If he couldn’t tell Stan, he would never be able to tell anyone. Besides, Stan already knew half of it anyway. This was right, it would probably be a relief for the tension between them, Stan knowing that Kyle wasn’t pining for him.

“With my boyfriend.”

 

“Your what?”

Stan had to ask, because the words didn’t make sense in his head. They repeated, slowly, as if his brain was about sixty years older. He understood a while ago that Kyle was, indeed, into guys. But to think he would go out and...get himself a boyfriend? Without Stan’s help? How the fuck could that happen? It was a good thing that Stan was sitting down already, because he’d need the support now otherwise.

“You...you have a...wow. Uhm. Wow.”

What was he supposed to say? When had Kyle gotten over him? Why didn’t Stan feel particularly ecstatic for his best friend? Instead, something glum crawled up his throat and Stan had to look away from Kyle and his concerned face.

“How long has this been going on?”

 

“Three days. No one knows, I don’t know how to tell my parents. Like, at all.” Kyle swallowed, trying to get rid off that weird lump in his throat.

Stan looking away like that didn’t help.

Wasn’t he supposed to be happy? Wasn’t Kyle supposed to be happy? Instead, he felt like things had just gotten even more weird between them.

“Hey, uh, I don’t expect you to say something, dude. I just wanted to let you know, because you’re the only one I can tell.” More silence and Kyle shifted on the bed. “I mean you knew I was…” He stopped right there, unable to talk about it while knowing full well that Stan understood what he meant.

 

“Gay. Like Craig and Tweek and Jake.” Stan shrugged, but he still couldn’t look Kyle in the face. It was so easy for Kyle, really, if he wanted to come out properly. Of course, Stan didn’t want to push him into it or anything, but for the first time (or maybe second), Stan felt kind of envious of Kyle’s position in the world.

“And uhm...you really like this guy, I’m assuming. He’s worth it?”

 

Kyle thought about Tweek and the way they’d spend cuddled up on the bed the whole evening yesterday. The way he held and touched and looked at him as if he was the best thing in the whole world. It made Kyle smile cheesily, but he did his best to keep himself in check. Couldn’t look like an idiot, not even in front of his best friend.

“Worth coming out? I’m pretty sure he is, but that’s why I thought it wouldn’t be bad if I go with him. Getting to know each other better and such.” Like Tweek, Stan had said. At the mention of his name, Kyle remembered that he actually hadn’t told Stan.

“It’s… uh, it’s Tweek, dude. I guess it wasn’t that surprising. Turned out he did invite me for, uh, spending time with me.”

 

“Tweek...Tweak?” Stan paled, mixed feelings taking him over at a rapid pace. Dismay, surprise, disappointment, confusion. Why did Kyle find Tweek attractive? Why was he dating him? Resentment for said blond welled up too. “He...he was a real dick to Craig. Be careful with him.” Stan sniffed, pulling himself together and managing a small smile for Kyle. It wasn’t a happy one, but he couldn’t help but worry. His opinion of Tweek had lowered substantially, ever since he saw the destruction of Craig’s heart, that friday afternoon.

 

Tweek hadn’t said much about Craig. Nothing at all, actually.

Kyle’s eyes were trained on Stan who seemed like he was trying too hard to be happy for him.

“He’s… It’s… not at the stage that they were at, not at all. For me it’s…” Kyle exhaled, “It’s different. Tweek’s into me and I’m into him. It’s nice to, uh, just go with that. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The conversation was entirely weird now.Kyle got up. 

“Just so you know I’m not just randomly gone. I’ll be back for the quarterfinals, for sure.”

 

“Kyle, wait.”

Stan left his seat, awkwardly blocking the door. He didn’t want Kyle to run away before Stan could give him some sort of explanation, which was the least he could do for his friend. He was being weird, he knew that too, acting as if he very much doubted Kyle’s life choices. He did, but Kyle shouldn’t feel that.

“Look, I, I mean...I’m happy you have someone. Really. I just...I don’t want you to get hurt. I’ve seen someone get very, very hurt, and I don’t want that to happen to you. I’m...sorry. I’m handling this like an idiot.”

Then again, Kyle had just sprung this on him, and some part of Stan was angry at his best friend for not even considering to tell Stan that he may or may not like Tweek Tweak.

 

“No, it’s ok, man.” It was even more awkward now, what with Stan blocking the door like Kyle was going to run out of the room and never return.

Kyle pushed his hands into his pockets, shrugging before he looked at his best friend.

“I should’ve told you. That I was into him. I wanted to, last Sunday, I just never got there, somehow. Sorry. And now everything went on and now it’s like this and I’m… life goes on after heartbreak. I don’t think it makes it not worth to try, really.”  Kyle sent him a tiny smile, trying to show that, well, Stan shouldn’t be worried about having caused him heartbreak. That wasn’t between them anymore.

 

Stan swallowed heavily. Heartbreak? Was that what Kyle associated with him, ever since last summer? He should speak out. He should say something about it, really. But Stan’s coward heart shrivelled away in fear. No. He wasn’t ready to handle that. He’d been doing so well, stuffing his emotions into a little corner, and only dealing with what was in front of him.

Kyle being gay and having a boyfriend, he could handle. Talking about him having hurt his friend over a very fundamental lie about his interests, he could not.

“....you’re right. I...hope everything goes right in Cali. You wanna stay for dinner or something?”  Probably not, given that the Marsh family dinner was probably some sad chicken and an awkward silence at the table until Randy let loose on his latest mad issue, but Stan felt obliged to answer.

 

“I’m good, thanks. Got leftovers from yesterday.” Stan was only asking to be nice anyway.

Kyle sighed and took the two steps between them to wrap his arms around him,  “Love you, dude. Thanks for listening.”

Stan smelled like fresh-out-of-the-shower and gave him the tiniest twinge of melancholy. It wasn’t a crime to wonder what it would’ve been like if it had been Stan instead of Tweek, right? Especially since that was entirely out of the question because Stan wasn’t gay.

“Hope you’ll take me in when I come crying. You can even tell me you told me so.”

 

Stan didn’t hesitate to wrap Kyle against him tightly, locking him down between his arms. He couldn’t help but feel like his best friend was drifting, against his will, away from him and nothing Stan could do could keep him chained to his side.  Maybe he was being selfish. Kyle was bound to find someone in the world he wanted to explore intimacy with, and Stan had known that, right?  Right.

“You can always come to me. Always, dude. I don’t care what it’s about, I’m here for you. Besides, breakups are my area of expertise. Who else are you gonna ask?”

 

Kyle snorted and leaned his head against Stan’s. “Thank you, Stan. I’ll remember that.”  When they broke the embrace, Kyle was smiling, honestly. It reached his green eyes and made his face shine with warm affection. Maybe this would actually fix things between them.

“Same goes for you. I hope you know that. Bros before hoes.” Stan’s expression at that was hilarious and Kyle laughed, boxing him playfully in the chest. “I mean it.”

 

“But...your ho is a bro. My brain can’t handle that, dude.” Stan laughed, finally breaking the weird tension between them. Having escaped the uncomfortable situation of asking Kyle about last summer just made everything easier.

“Text me when you’re on the road too, okay? Who knows, you might end up in Las Vegas on some Hangover style adventure. I’ll be pissed but not surprised. Weird shit always happens to us.” Less so ever since they stopped hanging out as an obnoxious foursome, but it was still South Park, even when you weren’t in South Park.


	15. Short Change Hero [Kyle&Tweek]

Three hours into their road trip, Kyle felt his excitement about being away from home, away from his parents and away from South Park was subsiding. The part of his excitement reserved for the fact that he was indeed going with his boyfriend in the old van that belonged to him was not fading in the slightest, though.

Tweek was a good (slow) driver and the VW bus had a slow-but-steady way of going places which made you o ddly calm and content with the world.  Tweek didn’t have to switch gears often once they’d reached the highway and his hand had found its place on Kyle’s thigh, Kyle’s hand covering it, his fingers stroking Tweek’s.

Before they’d left, Tweek had shown him the van, the spacious back with the music box and the small gas cooker and the fairy lights he’d stuck to the ceiling and the sides. It was possible to move things around to get more seats in, for when Black Insomnia had to go to places, but right now, it was like they were going on a camping trip. There was a small refrigerator behind the driver’s seat, accessible from where Kyle was sitting as well, courtesy of Roddy, Tweek had said.

It was weird, a little bit. Still. It wasn’t like Kyle hadn’t ever been without his parents or alone anywhere, but this felt like an adventure that wasn’t supervised by his mom or anyone’s mom, this was him becoming an adult. He couldn’t really concentrate all that well on the notes he’d made for the exam and sighed deeply, putting them away and looking over at Tweek who’d been silent for the past half an hour, letting Kyle study in peace.

“Can’t do it. I’m…”  _ Excited _ would sound weird, nervous wasn’t right. He’d prepared for the exam already, it wasn’t really necessary to study right now, but it made him feel better. “Some music?”

 

“No more study silence?” Tweek was only mildly teasing, not taking his eyes off of the road. Contrary to his and the van’s wild look, he was driving at about the same pace a grandma would. A grandma who had a jiggly cake balanced on her dashboard. Sure, they’d left with plenty of time, but there was no need to rush. And no, a road trip wasn’t about street racing and busting the old engine of his van (barely coughing and sputtering, Tweek was proud of how it was holding up).

“Fuck yeah.”

His fingers untangled from Kyle’s to reach for the radio, which was plugged into his phone. Tweek didn’t need his eyes to navigate on his phone. Immediately, the amiable quiet of the van was disturbed by heavy drums and screeching guitars. Tweek’s hand on the steering wheel relaxed a smidgen and his other found Kyle’s thigh again.

“I don’t know why you’re studying. You’ll get in. Absolutely.”

 

Kyle thought about protesting, but then figured Tweek meant what he said and reached for his fingers again.

“I hope so. I wanna get out of South Park, I really do. You know what you wanna do after school?”

Tweek probably had no idea like the rest of the people Kyle had ever talked to. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one with a specific wish for a job. Which wasn’t, like his dad had strongly suggested, becoming a lawyer, no, Kyle had applied (and was currently invited to the entry exam for) criminal psychology. As far as he knew, Tweek hadn’t applied for any colleges and wasn’t really interested in going either.

The music was loud and typical Tweek, some power metal (and Kyle was proud of himself for discerning that), but not unpleasant. Kind of epic, too. Kyle could get into it, definitely.

 

“Go triple platinum with Black Insomnia, and if that doesn’t work out, I guess I can work at my family’s coffee shop.” Tweek shrugged. His plans were vague, but very safe. He wasn’t applying for college, simply because he didn’t see himself going there. He was tired of letting people determine his life. A glance at Kyle revealed confusion and a lack of understanding from his boyfriend, so Tweek went on to explain himself.

“I’m no good at school. Can’t focus long enough. It’s okay, I gave up on it ages ago. I skirt by, gonna graduate on account of being a spaz. Principals are really, really easy when it comes to a good rep for graduating borderline special ed.”

 

Kyle looked at him incredulously, opened his mouth to tell him that he was definitely a smart guy and could go to college, but then closed it again. Tweek didn’t look like not going to college bothered him at all. In fact, he probably knew very well he was smart, and that’s why he’d made this decision, very consciously and very self-aware. Somehow, Kyle couldn’t help but admire him for it. He squeezed his hand gently.

“Your plan sounds way safer than mine. I’m actually… a little scared of college. Not of having to study, I can do that, but I’ll have to move, live alone, no one I know…” Kyle ran a hand through his hair and leaned his head back.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m not the kinda guy that thinks college is the best thing ever. It’s just that everyone’s on a run for it and I think it’s cool you’re not going with that. I admire that. You.”

Kyle smiled slightly and let his eyes wander to the side. A little bit of flirting was allowed, right? Even when Tweek was driving.

 

“You know you don’t have to flatter me to get into my pants, you’re already permanently invited.” Tweek didn’t watch what he said, forgetting how fresh this all was and that he and Kyle, although they definitely had some spark, were not him and Craig.  He flushed right as he realized how freaking suggestive his words had been.

“Ah! I mean! You’re, uh, obviously invited because of boyfriend reasons, I’m not, I don’t mean- fuck.”

Well, he did mean  _ fuck _ . but no part of him wanted to pressure Kyle. He was just trying to be cool in front of his new boyfriend, and instead, he sounded like a horny idiot.

 

For an answer, Tweek got a snort and a grinning Kyle who looked only ever so slightly embarrassed.

“It’s totally cool, dude. I’m glad I’m invited. That doesn’t mean I can’t tell you nice things though, right? I do have this crush thing on you after all. It’s hard not to.”

When Tweek looked at him, Kyle got embarrassed enough to look away.

"It’s all kinda new for me, sorry." In front of them, a sign for a roadside parking lot came up and Kyle pointed at it with the other hand, “Break? I can drive if you want.”

 

“I’m good. I drank some coffee.” Tweek tried to give Kyle a saucy and ironic wink, but his eyelid fluttered shut a couple more times than it should have. God damn it. Smooth looked different, he was pretty sure. Kyle seemed to take it in stride, though. Probably because he didn’t know any better. Poor fool. He probably also didn’t realize that he’d gotten the less sexy half of ‘Creek’ so to say. Kyle was taking a lot of things in stride, actually. Tweek had been anxious about the roadtrip, mostly because he was pretty sure Kyle wouldn't always be so patient and nice with him. It was probably just a case of 'new relationship' manners. Which Tweek had heard of (mostly from the girls) but failed to identify on account of never having had a new relationship. Until now. And he was making a mess of what was supposed to be an easygoing conversation, too.

Bringing up his ex wasn’t smooth either, but Tweek did have a burning need to talk about at least one thing with Kyle.

“So, uh, you wanna let me in on the secret? What is up with your best friend and Craig, hm? They’re surgically attached these days.”

 

The question caught Kyle a little by surprise, he really hadn’t thought they’d end up talking about that so quickly. But then again, he was interested in it, too, and if anyone knew Craig then it was probably Tweek.

“That’s not a secret I’m in on. He just hangs out with him all the time, probably because of football. They used to dislike each other, right? I know for a fact Stan wasn’t a big fan of him and I bet Craig didn’t like him so much either, huh?” Kyle hadn’t given it that much thought until now, at least not on a deep level. Craig was on the team, Craig had probably found some sort of comfort and chance to get over Tweek with in listening to Stan’s monologues about tactics and plays.

“Stan’s very involved with football, I mean he’s the QB, he kinda has to.” Kyle thought of Stan’s parents and the plenty of times he’d witnessed them fight. Football was Stan’s refuge in his own home, but he wouldn’t say that to Tweek. That was super best friend knowledge.

“Maybe Craig found distraction in it. I mean, he moped around a lot at school.”

 

“Yeah, that’s on me,” Tweek still felt the residue of guilt cling to him when he thought about it. He never in a million years thought his breakup would go so poorly, but Craig had surprised him time and time again by crawling around like a beaten dog, downcast and pitiful. Tweek had never felt more like a cold, heartless bitch than in the two weeks after he’d broken Craig’s heart.

Now, though, there was something else. Not just for him. He shrugged.

“Maybe. But they’ve both been playing. My best guess is that Craig found himself something else to get hung up on. I mean, Stan is very hot. We both had crushes on him, like, taking turns.”

 

At those words, a cold little surge rose to Kyle’s chest, at least it felt like it.

“On Stan? Tough luck, man. I mean for Craig, if it’s really like that.” There was a pause and Tweek looked over at him, questioning. Kyle swallowed. He’d probably said too much, but then again, this wasn’t really Stan’s secret anyway, it was Kyle’s. And he could decide if he wanted to let his boyfriend in on it or not.

“Stan isn’t gay. That’s a fact. Tested it, personally.” He tried to be as casual about it as possible, but it still sounded, at least to his own ears, like he was butthurt about it. Which he was, but it was Stan’s good right to say no, he just wasn’t into guys. Kyle held onto Tweek’s index finger, his own fingers curling around it. It didn’t hurt anymore, but it was still uncomfortable. Maybe though, he should talk about it. It wasn’t like he’d really talked to anyone about it, not even Stan.

 

Tweek paused at that. Kyle was telling him something that was probably very personal. He’d tried things with Stan? So those rumors weren’t completely wrong. They were very, very close after all.  Tweek played with Kyle’s fingers, trying to think of something positive he could say to that.

“Lucky for me,” he smiled, looking over for a moment, “but really, don’t be so sure. That’s probably why Craig is trying his luck. I know him. He’s a sucker for falling into love hopelessly.”

 

“That’s… ugh. Sounds really shitty, if you ask me. Stan’s sensitive. He feels really bad about it even though it’s not his fault.” K yle rubbed his other hand on his thigh. Now that they were away from the mountains, it was getting warmer rapidly.

“And before you think anything… wrong about it, Stan wasn’t into me. Ever.” Saying it felt like ripping off an old band-aid. Hurt, but the feeling finally having it off was somehow pleasant, even if the wound underneath it was only freshly healed and still itching at times.

“Last year in summer, we went camping and, uh, I thought we had some moments between us. So I thought it would be a good idea to finally just go for it and kiss him. He was… shocked, had no clue. None. I was pretty desperate and told him I liked him since I started liking people and that made it all even worse. We almost stopped being friends over it, it hurt both of us and I think kinda permanently damaged something between us. Sounds dumb, but that’s what it feels like sometimes.”

 

“Oh. That’s...hard. I’m sorry.” so that was the full story, huh? Tweek could hear it in Kyle’s voice, it had left its scars, that encounter with Stan’s sexuality. He shouldn’t make any more insinuations now, not if he wanted to preserve Kyle’s way of dealing with rejection. Personally, he doubted that Craig would, after so recently having his heart torn out, go for another impossible challenge.   But that didn’t matter. What Stan and Craig did, it was their business. And Stan’s rejection did lead to Kyle being single and available for Tweek to snatch up.

He tugged Kyle’s hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles.

“Well, it’s not a consolation, but I’m super into you. Don’t think I could compete with the football captain for being your boyfriend.”

 

“Who’s being flattering now, huh?” Kyle smiled. Tweek made it easy to feel good with and if the fluttering sensation in his stomach was any indication, it looked like he was really finally over Stan.

“I’m still his super best friend, just so you’re aware. But he’s had his chance, football team captain or not. I’ve moved on.” 

Kyle shrugged their conversation off. Tweek's small attempts at flirting and flattering were a healing salve on his raw, aching heart. Maybe he could learn to leave more by the wayside during this trip. His and Stan's friendship certainly deserved a better recovery than anything Kyle had managed so far.

Sensing their conversation to be over, Tweek turned the music up until the window panes were rattling. Kyle breathed out deeply, trying to let the music make him forget his name and where he came from.

 


	16. Counting Stars [Stan&Craig]

Craig’s foot was like lead on the pedal, the car sounding scarily brittle at this speed. He held the steering wheel steady, every little movement to it could bring even his dad’s precious car off road under the current circumstances. Tonight was the night in which he’d have revenge, finally. The thought of it, the knowledge that it was all in his hands and under his control was calming enough for him to finally slow the whole ride down. Stan in his Jeep was probably some miles back still when Craig pulled the car to a halt at the designated meeting point. Which was where they’d park the Jeep to get home after Craig had done what had to be done.

Maybe it was petty, but Craig was grinning when Stan finally pulled up and left his own car.

“You ready for some off road adventures? Hope you brought the right music.”

 

Craig Tucker drove like a madman. That much was clear to Stan when the sedan pulled ahead and left him in the dust of the mountain road they’d taken. At first, he’d tried to push the Jeep to keep up, but his car wasn’t built for speed. Or breaking the speed limit as hard as Craig was forcing his dad’s car to. It was kind of exhilarating, in the worst way. Stan vaguely remembered stealing a speed boat with Cartman once, when he was ten. Back then, the power of an engine and speed kind of scared him shitless. Now, he could enjoy it with reckless abandon.

When he finally caught up to Craig’s sedan, his friend was waiting and grinning. Again, with that kind of air of madness about him that sent shivers down Stan’s spine.

“You’re damn right I did. Born to off road, you’re looking at the master,” he patted his Jeep, then looked at the first slope. It ended in some trees and a piece of forest, most of it muddy from molten snow. Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun. Stan hopped up on the hot hood of his Jeep, returning Craig’s grin as he adjusted his snapback and emptied his can of cherry coke.

“Last chance to chicken out. There’s no way that bucket’s gonna survive what I have in mind.”

 

“Chicken out? If this thing doesn’t go up in flames when we’re done with it, I brought some gasoline to help out.” Out of his pocket, Craig produced a lighter and flicked it on, his grin still revealing perfect teeth in the dim light. He was here to get shit done and Stan playing along felt like the best thing ever. Craig checked him out, secretly, while he downed the last of his cherry coke, briefly imagined what he tasted like right now. The guy really had a hard on for cherry coke and Craig had that fact memorized like his mom’s birthday.

“Get in. It’s time.” Craig spoke with his most mysterious voice, but the grin never left his face entirely. He started the engine and flicked on the lights, waiting for Stan, who fiddled with something in his pocket and produced a CD to go along with the car's ancient audio equipment. Whatever. As long as they had music, this was gonna be great.

 

As soon as the first beat made the dash vibrate, their ride began. Slow at first, then faster, Craig let the poor sedan take the first slope until they reached the forest which was where he really sped up. There was something deeply enjoyable about the way the trees were scratching off the paint and the way the engine howled when Craig kicked through the gears in order to deal with the uneven terrain.

 

Stan tried to ignore the need to clutch the door. Willful destruction of property was definitely a thing that had to be enjoyed with something fiery in his belly. That whiskey he’d poured into his cherry coke was definitely loosening him up. As branches and leaves battered at the car, he couldn’t help the somewhat hysterical giggle escaping him. This was a step beyond what perfect, golden boy Stanley Marsh usually got up to. This was the kind of shit Kenny did on a regular basis, or even Cartman when he was trying to impress Wendy.

“You gotta make it to the overhang. Gonna be a sweet fucking jump.”

Stan had the route in mind and it would land them and the car in water. Not deep enough not to drive in, but it would definitely fuck up the transmission. Stan felt like a rebel, and he was enjoying it. The music matched the mood, Billy Idol belting out the need for speed.

 

“White fucking lightning alright.” Craig acknowledged the choice of music and followed Stan’s suggestion, putting the pedal to the metal and pushing his dad’s dear sedan to its limits as the engine howled in protest against the treatment.

It wasn’t like Craig was trashing cars on a regular basis and he too felt exhilaration and adrenaline flood him, but he wasn’t a good boy like Marsh was either. He still got into fights regularly, he stole shit now and then when he didn’t have money and got drunk a lot of times. This though, this was great, it was revenge against his dad’s asshole treatment and he’d never find out what happened to his car. With his car officially ‘stolen’, they’d eventually find it, totaled, somewhere out here in the wilderness. The overhang was right in front of them and Craig held the steering wheel steady.

“Get ready, baby.” He all but purred, grinning like a madman as the sedan and its passengers sailed off of the ground, about twenty feet far before it impacted with an almighty splash into some muddy watery ground. Craig didn’t leave anything up to chance, as soon as the wheels had traction again he went for the hand break, pulling it up while at the same time hitting the gas pedal hard. The steering wheel pulled hard to the right finally gave the howling sedan the right kick to start spinning in place, with a lot of smoke coming from under the hood. The music was blaring, mud was splashing everywhere and Craig felt amazing.

 

It was half a miracle that they weren’t smacked in the faces by the airbags, but Stan could absolutely not get over the rush of adrenaline. He was laughing as the smoke began to boil up from under the hood. This was so damn stupid, he was loving it. All of the bullshit he’d heard from Thomas Tucker’s mouth was going up in smoke, right here, right now. Water and mud were spraying from around the sedan’s madly spinning wheels as Craig punished the car for all of his dad’s misdeeds.

“Shit, don’t burn it out yet! We gotta get to the ramp!”

The ‘ramp’ was a construction that Kenny had told him about for five whole bucks, and it was somewhat of a graveyard for joyride cars. It was at the end of a dirt road, maybe a mile away, and now that Stan had his first taste of how much fun could be had trashing a car, he wanted the full load.

 

Craig immediately stopped, hitting the break abruptly. The car protested here, too, but at least it still worked.  He turned his head slowly.

“Ramp?” His voice had a dangerous little tone to it, one that was entirely due to him finally being able to take out all his pent up anger on his dad’s stuff. Stan pointed into a direction and Craig followed it. The sedan was definitely not sounding as it had before anymore, there was something broken already and that only spurred him on.  The trip towards the ramp was not so crazy, he definitely wanted to make that jump and trash the car entirely.

That this was anything but safe for the two of them, Craig didn’t really think about so much. They were in a car and if anything, the car was going to get trashed. Stan and he would walk back to the Jeep and if Stan’s adrenaline-high laughter was real, Craig was going to ride that high with him.

 

Stan was completely ignorant of the danger they were in. All that mattered was the roaring engine and the heavy thump of the beat. The two of them were in a world of their own, existing only in this car, in this moment.  The ramp was at the end of a dirt path, and now, in sight. It looked a lot steeper than Stan remembered, but Kenny’s word of warning about approaching it at speed had gone right out of the window. 

“Brace!” he was still laughing, stemming his feet and clinging to the seatbelt as the car howled, Craig pushing it to its absolute limit.

For a moment, they were just in the air, and it felt like slow motion. Stan could see the trees, the forest, the wrecks of the other cars that had been ended just like this, and to him, it was beautiful.

 

The hood of the sedan tipped forward as gravity took its toll on the vehicle and its passengers. For a moment, time was standing still and then there was the impact. Grill first, the car crashed into another wreck, stood up for two seconds and then fell backwards on top of another broken, burnt out car, bounced up one time and then stood still, one wheel in the air still spinning, smoke coming from under the hood. 

Craig’s ears were ringing, his face cushioned by the airbag that had activated this time. Luckily. Glass had splintered. His side hurt from where the driver’s door had bent inwards and had obviously been roughly pushed against him.

Slowly, he could think again. The music had stopped, he smelled something burning.

“Marsh?” He brought out, getting his hands up to push the airbag out of his face and look to the side to check on Stan. That he left bloody fingerprints on the white material, he didn’t notice.

 

Reality hit back hard when they actually crashed the damn car. Stan could barely breathe, the sudden realization dawning on him that this had been ridiculously dangerous. They could easily have...

No, not now. He should see if Craig was alright. Every part of Stan still felt intact, though his arm and back hurt a little from when he bounced off of the airbag.

“Craig? You ok?” he grunted as he pulled the seatbelt off and peeked over the white mass. Craig looked a little rougher than he felt, and just as wide-eyed.

“Holy fuck dude.”

 

“Holy fuck is right. _Fuck_.”  Craig pushed more of the airbag to the side and then tried to move his body. Everything still seemed functional and that couldn’t be just the adrenaline, right?  Stan seemed okay and that, too, was a relief.

  
“Let’s get out of here. Something is fucking burning. Can you open your door? Can’t get mine, it’s jammed.”

 

“Yeah, I think so.” Stan ignored the acrid smell of smoke and kicked at door. It creaked open, protesting all the way. Fresh air streamed in as Stan wedged himself out of the car. He reached back to offer Craig a hand. Only then did he notice the blood.  “Dude, you’re bleeding.”

Concern rose fast in his voice. They might have done something really dumb here, and Craig was hurt. Hardly the fun little act of family vengeance they’d set out for.

 

He’d been busy wedging himself out of the driver’s seat to get ready to climb over the middle compartment and over to the passenger seat to get out (not an easy task for a guy with his mass), and Craig only noticed his hand’s and arm’s condition when Stan informed him about it.

Seeing his own blood was somehow alerting, but nothing new really. Craig got into fights enough to be used to it in a way. It didn’t feel like something really bad, he could still move everything. There was concern in Marsh’s eyes and that felt, in a strange way, oddly pleasant.

“Glass splinters, probably. Hold on.” He rubbed his hand, slick with blood, on the airbag and then reached out to grab Stan’s hand. The slippery liquid squelched between their skin pressed together when Marsh pulled, helping him to move over and finally out of the car. They stumbled backwards and away from the car. Something was indeed burning, small flames were licking out of the hood now and then.

It was good to see his dad’s car like this, the result of their little joyride, their plan followed through, but something was missing. Good thing he was wearing an old shirt, sleeveless, because while Marsh was still watching in awe or horror or whatever, probably shocked, Craig took off his jacket, followed by his shirt. He wrapped the fabric around his hand, got back into his jacket which he zipped up for a change and went for the trunk. It took a kick and a hard push from his good hand to get it open.

Craig extracted the canister of gasoline, unscrewed the cap and began to systematically douse the car, back to front, in the liquid. Ending up at the hood, close to the flames, he threw the canister too through the open passenger door and stepped back, waiting.

 

Stan watched him, clueless for only a minute or so. When he realized Craig wasn’t fucking around and definitely torching the car, he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back until they hit the road. Better safe than sorry, right?Right, because the flames that roared up from the car were cool but also fucking dangerous. If that shit exploded, Stan was gonna bail, right there and then, no fucks given as to how much of a pussy he looked.

“Jesus Christ, Tucker,” he breathed deeply, checking if any part of himself was in bad condition. A couple of bruises were all the memorabilia he’d take away from their joyride, so that was fine. Stan was about to say something else, when Thomas Tucker’s sedan did, in fact, explode. It was dramatic as hell, and Stan could do nothing but stare in awe as the flames licked towards the sky. He stood there, his hand on Craig’s good arm, staring at the burning car, and he felt...something, alright. Satisfaction, excitement, dread, all bundled into one Stan Marsh.

 

The explosion was perfect, just like Craig had imagined it, every single time his dad had spewed bullshit. It was refreshing, relieving, satisfying and kind of a turn on, really, to finally see it happen. Stan’s hand was warm on his arm and Craig grabbed it and intertwined their fingers, while parts of burning metal and rubber were raining down. Almost romantic, really. His eyes wandered to the side, just to check on Marsh who was watching the spectacle with an expression that mixed excitement and fear perfectly.

Craig squeezed his hand to get his attention and when he caught it, he didn’t waste any time to pull him against him, bodily. The wrapped-up hand on his shoulder, he held him steady as he leaned down ever so slightly. Marsh’s eyes were glinting with orange light from the nearby fire, his whole face bathed in the warm light. Craig marveled at him for just a moment, before he finally tilted his head to bring their lips together in one passionate kiss.

 

It was kind of the first time they’d kissed in broad fucking daylight. Stan wasn’t even remotely drunk or emotionally compromised, and yet, he was enjoying it. Craig tasted like smoke and anger right now, and Stan couldn’t get enough of him. This being of wrath was turning into one driven by want and desire, and it was for him. This wasn’t rebound kissing, or comfort kissing. This was for him.  And Stan kissed back like he wanted Craig. No, like he needed Craig. Maybe he did. Maybe he really was kidding himself. He’d been making out, repeatedly, with a guy, the same guy. This wasn’t a casual thing that he could deny any longer.

Craig made his chest ache, in all the good ways Wendy used to. In the way every girl he’d ever liked had. 

All of this was real. The burning car, Craig against his lips, Stan out here in the forest doing stupid shit when everyone expected him to be a model teenager. It was both suffocating and freeing, with Craig kissing coming down on the liberating side of feelings. Stan’s kiss was hungry, his hands were greedy and his eyes were closed. He couldn’t press himself closer to Craig if he tried.

 

Craig had known about his crush on Marsh, but when Stan kissed him back like he meant it, warmth surged through him. Comforting and exciting at the same time, the kiss was addictive and so was the feeling of the other body tightly against his own. When a mere pressing of lips and soft nips to each other weren’t enough anymore, Craig licked his way into Stan’s mouth and found him equally interested in deepening their kiss. It was exhilarating and Craig felt warmth turn into heat and that wasn’t just the burning car in the distance.

Which exploded, again, at exactly that point in time which had both of them pull away from each other. Craig did not, however, let go off Stan’s hand.

“Fuck. We should get out of here." He offered Stan a warm grin and squeezed his hand. If Marsh didn’t violently extract that hand from his, he’d hold it, all the way back to the Jeep.

 

Lucky for Stan, he didn't come away from the crash with anything more than a couple of bruises. It could have all ended way, way worse than making out with Craig Tucker in front of a burning car.

That hand in his? He’d let Craig do whatever he wanted, it was practically his.

Fuck.

Stan swallowed down the truth that had dawned on him. He was...he had a crush, at the very least. On Craig. That’s why everything they did together felt so right, so good. It was Craig. It wasn’t the junkfood, or the stupid jokes they made, or the way Craig made him see the world as something worthwhile (which was ironic, given Craig’s approach to most things).  He needed to think about this. He’d been playing emotional footsie with Craig for weeks, months. And only now had he figured it out. He was gay for Tucker, even if he still found girls very interesting. Bi or something, that had to fit the shoe here, right?

“You think we can leave this? I mean, it’s not gonna set the forest on fire, right?”

Probably not, since there was nothing but mud and rusty metal near the wreck, but Stan needed something, anything to distract himself right now.

 

Craig took him up on the offer. Although he was firm in his knowledge that he was indeed very gay and very interested in one Stan Marsh, he didn’t need to think about the fact that here again, he’d lost his heart to a guy like a romantic sap that he thought he really wasn’t.

“The trees are far away enough and it’s all wet and gross everywhere. Don’t think this will start a forest fire. There’s other cars there that look the same and the trees don’t look like they’ve been burnt from that either. Let’s go.” He turned, gently tugging Stan with him. There was a mile and a half of walk between them and the parked Jeep and it was getting dark.

 

Stan nodded in agreement, vaguely present in the reality where he was strolling through the forest hand in hand with Craig Tucker. His brain was only slightly stuck and scrambling for excuses not to deal with the imminent sexuality crisis. Five minutes passed quietly, dirt crunching under their shoes, nothing but their breath and the distant crackle of fire disturbing the air. It was almost eerie, like the world really had disappeared beyond the two of them.

“...We could have fucking died.”

 

“We can die every day, Marsh. Yeah, it got a bit messier than expected”, Craig raised his hand, “But we’re alive.”

He chuckled to himself, then pushed his shoulder lightly against Stan’s. “We should celebrate that. Being alive instead of thinking about when and how we could die.”

Craig’s thumb ran over the back of Stan’s hand, rubbing the skin softly. “No regrets, at all. That was the best thing ever, honestly. My dad’s gonna be livid and nobody will have a clue until at some point, long in the future, someone will find the wreck and no one will know what happened.”

He turned towards Stan while walking, pressing his index finger, crusty blood residue on it, into Stan’s chest.

“Except you. And me. Our little secret.”

 

“I think we’ve got a few.” Stan looked at the ground, trying to calm his fluttering heart. It hadn’t beat this hard when they were airborne in a stolen car, but hell, walking with Craig, realizing that every moment shared between them had been choked full of meaning that Stan was unaware of was a hefty pill to swallow. The blood on Craig’s fingers drew his attention though.

“We gotta stitch you up. Otherwise someone’s gonna get suspicious.” And then the whole story would get out and Craig’s dad would be livid. 

God damn it. Looking at Craig was now irrevocably connected to the unbearable question in his mind. Also he looked devilishly attractive and Stan’s dumb brain was suggesting that if he was gay, he might as well go full wattage.

 

“Don’t think it’s that bad. Just need to wash it, I guess. Examine it, just a few cuts, I’d say.” Craig waved his wrapped-up arm. There were some bloodstains, but nothing soaking. Couldn’t be that bad. It hurt a bit, but there was worse pain than this.

Stan was oddly tense and distracted now, but he did hold onto his hand. Craig wasn’t really someone who easily figured out what went on in people’s heads, but he tried to anyway. Could it be that good-boy-Stan felt bad about what they’d done? That he’d been part of Craig’s little revenge tour?

Maybe. At least he was better in calming people down than figuring out what was up in the first place.

“Don’t worry, Stan. No one will find out. Your football career is safe.”

 

“I’m not worried about that.”

Craig’s attempt to calm him down brought a plethora of other thoughts up, thoughts that Stan never had to consider until now. Football career. Fuck. He couldn’t even afford to be a little gay, in public, if he wanted any chances to get a scholarship. Football was one of the worst places to look for acceptance and tolerance.

That didn’t make the pounding heart in his chest take pause, however. He held Craig’s hand tighter. If he was ever going to have a chance at exploring anything with a guy? Now was kind of it.

Another minute or two of silence and Stan began to notice that this was awkward. He was making shit awkward between them, just as he had with Kyle. It was awful, and he didn’t want any more of it.

“I really like hanging out with you. You’re like, the realest fucking person I know.”

 

The confession came unexpected and had Craig’s eyebrows wander up. He didn’t say anything though, tried to hide his surprise and just be cool with it, otherwise it would probably make Marsh regret saying it in the first place.

“You’re not half as bad as I thought. Knew that before that, err, Friday though.” Craig shrugged, “Turns out hanging out with you is actually the best thing ever.” Not entirely the truth because Craig’s mind helpfully suggested what ‘hanging out with Stan’ could end up in if his fantasy had a say in it and that, that was definitely better than just hanging out, but only marginally. He really liked to just be around Marsh.

After that, there was silence between them, not quite as awkward as before, but still somewhat tense, until they reached the Jeep. Craig slid into the passenger seat.

 

Stan was content with the quiet, sorting his various thoughts and emotions, grateful that their adventure hadn’t gotten them killed. It didn’t instill any poetic need to live in the moment in him, but it was a pretty good reminder that he needed to figure himself out before he settled on dedicating his life to being an athlete. He’d always thought that it fulfilled him to be admired, to be the apple of everyone’s eye, to have the approval of hundreds of people. But, as it turned out, the admiration, friendship and more from just one person could be enough. Craig liked him. For him. Because he’d definitely grown to know all of Stan in a way that only Kyle could contest.

When they got to the Jeep, Stan didn’t immediately climb into the driver’s seat. He rounded the car instead, digging out the first aid kit that had been in here since he’d gotten it. Stan got in, balancing the kit on his lap as he turned to Craig.

“Water bottle in your door. Let’s clean you up before you get blood on my seats.”

 

Craig went for it, left the door open and unwrapped his arm. It looked messy, fresh and dry blood everywhere, but as soon as he had poured some water on it and rubbed with a bit of gauze Stan had handed him helpfully, it cleaned up to reveal a few criss-crossed cuts.  Nothing too bad, but a bandage would probably not be ill advised, if only to stop the bleed and keep dirt out.

“You did that first aid course, right?” He asked as he turned to Stan, holding his arm out over the middle compartment. “First aid me then, Marsh. If I fall unconscious, you may kiss me.”

 

“Only then?” Stan couldn’t keep himself from making a comment, realizing only half a second too late that he’d actually just flirted with Craig. Fuck it. He had an arm to wrap.

Up close, the cuts didn’t look too bad. The blood from before had obscured their actual size and depth, but they were already slowing their bleeding, so that was good. At least, as far as he remembered. His fingers were absolutely gentle on Craig’s arm, though he wrapped the bandage fairly tight, making a few layers just in case. When he was done, his hands lingered.

 

The comment caught Craig only slightly off-guard. He had kind of hoped for Stan to say something like this, but it wasn’t like he’d been expecting it, at all.   
Craig dragged out his response, instead watched Stan work and bandage his hand and arm. Only when he was done, the pads of his fingers still lingering on him, he finally spoke.

“If you continue being a smooth fucking operator, I’ll swoon and then you’ll definitely have the chance. Or, you know, you just lean over right now and do it, pussy.” Craig sent him a small smirk, challenge clear in his eyes.

 

Craig was offering him the option to skip past his weird feelings and just go into that ‘it’s not gay, we’re just pushing each other to the edge’. But that was an excuse, wasn’t it? Stan didn’t need that anymore. It was there, it was easy, but he didn’t want to take the bait. He did want to kiss Craig, because he had a crush the size of Texas and that was painfully clear to him now.  Stan leaned over, one hand leaving Craig’s arm and pulling at his collar, tugging him closer, until Stan could feel Craig’s breath on his face.

“Don’t call me a pussy when I’m hitting on you, asshole.”

 

That simple sentence had Craig’s heartbeat skyrocket.  Marsh was serious about this. He didn’t take the easy way out, he didn’t let Craig tease him and just take it as an excuse later, he had knowingly decided that he was making the rules now. And somehow, that turned Craig on like hell.

As heat jolted down his spine, he was pretty sure his blood had just decided the only way to go was south right now.

His breath hitched from the sensation, but he didn’t care if Marsh noticed what kind of effect he had on him. Craig was pretty sure his monumental crush on Stan was pretty obvious to the world anyway and just Mr Oblivious here hadn’t caught on. Until now, apparently, because what he was doing currently, grabbing him, holding him in place and letting his blue, blue eyes wander languidly down to his lips and back up, Craig was pretty sure he wanted to die like this, aroused to death by one hotass Stan Marsh.

 

Craig seemed shocked into silence, because he was a pretty picture right now, watching Stan as if he’d just met him for the first time. Or as if it surprised him that Stan may or may not have caught on. There was doing weird stuff with a buddy, and then there was holding hands for a mile-long hike through the woods after blowing up your dad’s car. Stan was close enough now for their lips to brush together. Blood was rushing through his head, his face, his ears, but Stan was sure he wanted to do this. With Craig. Right now.

“How dumb do you think I am, Craig? You  _ like _ me, right?”

 

Somehow, Craig had always toyed with the thought of what if Stan actually found out. But that possibility seemed so far off that it had been distant fantasies, if anything and Craig never actually bothered to come up with a plan to follow once this situation arose.  His plan had been just to keep messing around with him, have as much fun as possible until the inevitable day when Marsh scored himself another girlfriend and their fooling around would stop, abruptly.

But here and now, Stan was confronting him with what he thought the guy would never find out or if he did, never speak about despite Craig’s lack of trying to actually hide it.

“Pretty dumb, you don’t even know.” He tried to recover, but Stan didn’t pull a face of annoyance or turn away. He stayed right where he was and it was getting hard for Craig to breathe.

Stan didn’t need to say anything to make him crumble, he just needed to demand from him with those baby blues of his and Craig was ready to lay down at his feet. THis was how bad he had it, this situation right here. He dared to look at Stan’s eyes again.

“Yeah. I like you. In that really gay way.”

 

“Okay.” Stan breathed deeply, but he didn’t back away an inch. He didn’t want to, and Craig didn’t look all that mortified. This certainly was...a first between them. A first kernel of a deeper truth, that they didn’t need to explore right now. Someone like Kyle might have opened up a case for discussion. Someone like Tweek might have drilled some emotional holes in the theory and pointed out that this all began with a rebound situation. 

But Stan wasn’t interested in analysing this. He wanted to enjoy it, see where it went, just because it felt good so far. He pressed his lips to Craig’s, and found nothing had changed. He still felt excited, and warm, and in good company. It was good. Whatever this was for him. He was up for it.

 

Marsh was kissing him, on his own volition, not drunk, not desperate and right after Craig had basically admitted to having this huge crush on him. Which could have made it all weird, breaking what they had for good. Instead, Stan’s lips were on his, slightly chapped as always. Craig let his eyes fall shut, returning the kiss, slowly.

There was no rush this time, no hidden sadness, no urge to prove something or the heady sensation of drunken make-out. There were just Stan’s lips on his, repeatedly catching his in a very alluring kiss that drew Craig in, pulled him without mercy until all of his senses were, without fail, all focused on Stan alone.

 

The longer the kiss went on, the more clarity Stan gained, despite the rising heat in his body, famous for muddling thoughts and reason. He liked doing this. Because it was Craig. Not because Stan was lonely, or horny. He liked doing this with Craig, specifically, this guy who seemed to care for nothing but actually cared a whole lot. This guy, whom he had dismissed as a callous asshole before he ever got to know him. Now, Craig was a whole new bundle of emotions that Stan could no longer ignore. He hadn’t felt like this before. His body was hot, his heart was hammering and his tongue was winding its way into Craig’s mouth, as snug at home as if it belonged there. Their bodies pressed as close as they could, though it was damn awkward to lean across the seats like this. Stan wished to be some petite girl who could manage to fit on a lap in a car, for once in his life.

Stan didn’t know if he was gay or bi or whatever, but he knew what being into someone was like. This felt like more, and he was afraid of delving into exactly what that meant, but for now, he was going to accept the fact that he wanted to make out with Craig Tucker, entirely without being drunk or highly emotionally incapacitated. And that meant that he probably wanted something more, with Craig, who had a crush on him, too.

His epiphany was muffled by desire, but Stan wanted to let Craig know, even in some small way, that he wasn’t the only one with feelings attached to all of this.

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Craig are really dumb teenage bois, we do not endorse joyriding and crashing cars xD


	17. Hold My Hand [Kyle&Tweek]

Tweek was going to have to reevaluate his life. Or maybe not all of it, but the recent couple of months, from the moment he remembered who had once upon a time given him a rose up until the moment he thought that a certain redhead’s fiery temper was kind of cute.

Kyle Broflovski was more than a quick temper, but now that it had come to light, Tweek was kind of dumbstruck. Ever since Tweek had manned up and asked Kyle out, it had been sweetness and light, feelings as delicious as candy coloring the air between them, whenever they were together. Kyle had seemed like a kind of misunderstood, shy guy with no experience who was grateful for Tweek’s ‘courage’ and blushed at the thought of sex.

But that cotton candy vision no longer held true.

It had been near the end of their second day of driving, at about their halfway marker to California, when his usually so trusty van (lovingly nicknamed ‘the beast’ despite not being capable of speeds exceeding sixty miles per hour) had sputtered and coughed and rolled its way to the side of the highway. But the car breaking down hadn’t been the reason Kyle’s temper showed up. No, they’d been in decent spirits, getting some help from a friendly traveller who slowly towed them to the nearest gas station. It took them until noon, and Kyle was still in high spirits, since he’d calculated delays into his route and none of this would put them off schedule. It was fine, he’d said, laughed cutely and sponsored a lunch of hot dogs from the gas station. Kyle had been a little tense, but ultimately, calm, still. Calmer than Tweek, in any case.

Then, after lunch, the mechanic had given them a verdict that wiped the smile right off of Kyle’s face; the van’s transmission was shot, and the fix would not only cost Tweek more than he had in pocket, but it would also take at least a full day.

Now, it probably had something to do with the way the man leered at them both as he said it, or the smug smirk in his voice as he changed the price three times as he spoke (probably because Tweek’s face was a mirror of despair during the conversation), but it been the final nail in the coffin for Kyle’s patience.

He exploded. Verbally, he went to town on the mechanic’s calculations and estimate, calling him a couple of names that Tweek had never heard before while also being extremely vicious in terms of the guy’s competence. Physically, it was as if the redhead grew three times his size and towered over the mechanic as he spoke angrily, not quite screaming, not quite hissing.

The mechanic shrunk under the assault and ended up as silent as Tweek until Kyle was finished with him and stalked off, full of rage and carnage to the van. Talk about fiery redheads. Kyle would have probably torn anyone to shreds if they dared to make that comment now, but Tweek was silent, even after they’d returned to the van. Angrily, Kyle threw himself into the pillows that were for sitting at day and sleeping at night, arms crossed, jaw square, lips thin and pressed together.

 

“What the fuck does that guy think? I mean, does he think we’re stupid and didn’t notice how Mr. asshole himself changed the price three fucking times? Just cause we’re teenagers we don’t know how the world works? Did you _see_ how he looked at us that entitled dickhead?”  Kyle’s voice was angry and loud, still. He was fuming, that much was clear, but he wasn’t flying off the handle anymore at least.

“I’m trying to get somewhere and do something with my life and fucking bullshit like this happens and ruins everything! God! At this rate I’m googling this crap and doing it myself, I’m not letting an  _ ass _ like that ruin my  _ life _ .”

Only now he looked at Tweek, who was leaning in the door, looking vaguely concerned. For a moment Kyle was angry with him too for not being angry at this shit.

 

 

The fires had died down a little bit, but Kyle was still aglow with embers. Tweek almost didn’t want to get any closer. Not because he was afraid that the anger would turn on him (maybe a little bit, since it was his crappy van that broke down), but rather because he wanted to just look at Kyle.  Again, the concept of dating played through his mind. He’d never been with someone he didn’t know inside out. Craig had been a cranky enigma for about two days before he just stopped caring and was himself around Tweek.  And yet, here was Kyle, fire and brimstone and Tweek couldn’t think about how nervous it usually made him to deal with other people’s emotions. With Kyle, he wanted to watch the flames and warm himself once they died down.

It was a weird train of thought, but Tweek was pretty sure he could write some sort of fire allegory into a song about Kyle. He stuffed the thought aside.

“You really wanna get into this college, huh?” he asked instead, intent on finding out why this was so important. Kyle was smart as hell. Tweek was pretty sure he could apply to a number of colleges and had, or would, because he was also a person that covered all their bases.

 

Kyle looked up, green eyes on Tweek for a moment. It was true, he’d never bothered to tell his boyfriend the reason for him going on this trip, elaborated on why it was so important for him to go there. Where his fingers had been digging into the skin of his upper arms, Kyle relaxed them now and just rubbed his arms instead, eyes wandering over the pillows.

Maybe this was much the same like his old crush on Stan. Maybe he didn’t have to keep it locked up inside of him forever and deal with it himself, maybe he could actually tell Tweek. Not that he could change much about it and Kyle didn’t know Tweek all that well either, perhaps that was exactly a good reason to tell him. To get a fresh point of view on things.

“It’s the only one that wanted me, so far.”

And they didn’t even let him in directly, no, they wanted him to perform this test. Apparently, being the best at some hillbilly school in countryside Colorado didn’t make good colleges want you, much the opposite.  And Kyle, convinced and self-secure, had applied only to the créme de la créme of colleges.  When he looked up at Tweek, there was some desperation in his eyes. 

“I need to get accepted, I really do.  _ I don’t want to stay in South Park _ .”

Kyle looked pitiful and desperate and Tweek felt a very familiar surge of protectiveness rise up in him. Only this wasn’t Craig, getting jumped by five guys and needing someone in the ring with him, this was Kyle, seeking an escape from a familiar hell. Tweek’s hesitance vanished and he hopped into the van, pulling the door shut for now. Here was something he could help with, and he was ready to be there for someone other than himself. Finally, there’d be some use to all the crap he told himself to make it through the rough days, because they might help Kyle too.

 

“You will leave South Park. Hey. Listen,” Kyle hadn’t interrupted, but Tweek needed to gather his thoughts. He wrapped an arm around Kyle, trying to be as comforting as he could (and later at night he would surely think about the irony of this and something Craig-related) as he took his shot at being the voice of reason, “I promise, you will get to your test. And you’ll do great. And even if they don’t take you, I’ll...we’ll drive to every college you want until one takes you, okay?”

 

For a few seconds, Kyle sat there, unmoving, contemplating the words as if he couldn’t quite believe them. Tweek promising him he’d get out was cute, sure, but what reassured Kyle more was the offer to go to other colleges in case California State didn’t want him. It changed something for him, made it possible for his strung-up body to relax and lean against his boyfriend. Kyle’s head landed on Tweek’s shoulder before he sighed and turned to the side, wrapping both arms around him, face buried in his neck.

“Thank you.” He whispered, muffled, but relieved in a way. Sure, they still had to get there and the mechanic was still an asswipe, the van still broken, but at least he wasn’t hopeless anymore. If he told Stan that Tweek Tweak had managed to calm him down from one of his fits, his best friend would not believe it.

Kyle focused on breathing in and out, against Tweek’s skin. The guy smelled really good (okay, they had showered at a roadhouse earlier) and it wasn’t even his bodyspray, just Tweek’s own scent which Kyle found oddly addictive.

“You smell good.” He offered.

 

“Anxiety and decaf.” Tweek let the compliment roll over him with awkward charm. He needed to lighten the mood. It was entirely up to him. He remembered Kyle trying to go over his notes for the exam or test he was supposed to take. And every time Tweek had glanced over, his boyfriend’s face had looked a little more worried. Kyle was tense as hell, and nervous, because this was important.

Tweek’s first instinct, to cower away and avoid stress fought with his urge to care for Kyle. The way he’d been taught in his first relationship. It could make all the difference in the world, for someone to believe in you and hold your head over water, just a little.

“You gotta try the cupcakes in the fridge, too. I made them before we left. I’m gonna go talk to the mechanic again, okay honey?”

 

For that, Tweek was hugged very tightly. Kyle looked up, a small smile on his face as he leaned in to brush the tip of his nose against Tweek’s.

“You’re a goddamn cupcake.” He muttered and kissed him briefly before he made his way over to the mini fridge to go for the promised cupcakes. When he turned around again, Tweek had already left and Kyle was alone with the cupcake and about two dozen butterflies in his stomach instead of a fiery pit. 

It felt good to be cared about like you were the best thing in the world. Kyle didn’t want to complain because he had the best friend ever and Stan used to make him feel like that, but come puberty, that was different, way different, to knowing you were a real duo with someone, theoretically, not even a sheet of paper fitting in the space between them. Okay, he and Tweek hadn’t really gone far in the sex department yet, true, but Kyle just didn’t have much thought to spare, the exam taking most of his attention (which was probably unfair to Tweek, really). He’d dedicate himself to that on their way back, at the latest.

 

Kyle’s reveries were lost on Tweek, but he had some business to attend to and the determined fire of proving himself to his boyfriend burning in his belly. Ten minutes passed by, ten minutes of Kyle, alone with cupcakes in the van, before the door opened vigorously and Tweek looked very pleased with himself. And a little...ruffled. It could be scuff marks and a case of windswept hair, but there’d been nothing out there, not even a gentle breeze.

“Grab what you need, honey. He’s gonna fix the beast, right now.” And for half of the first price, because Tweek could be persuasive, in a distinctly berserk kind of way. Which was why his clothing was crumpled and his hair and eyes wild. “We’re gonna hike to the diner down the road.”

 

Kyle’s face lit up, he stuffed the rest of the muffin into his mouth and then went to lock up their stash of food (including the fridge), just to be sure. He grabbed his wallet and phone and moved out of the van. Tweek was exuding some wild sort of energy with a slight twinge of insanity clinging to it, but it drew Kyle in all the more. How he had managed to convince the guy would be his secret forever, probably.

Once they’d gotten the van over to the guy’s garage, the mechanic going to work immediately and without looking at either of them, Kyle reached for Tweek’s hand and held it tightly in his own.

"I’m so treating you to whatever you want.” Kyle said, relief in his voice. The tension in his shoulders had subsided, at least a little bit and his steps were lighter as he walked next to Tweek.

 

Tweek was always a fan of holding hands and out here, no one knew them. That was probably why Kyle was so cool about it here. He’d asked him, right after they decided that them being boyfriends was officially on the menu, if he’d be okay with something like that and Kyle had given him a heartfelt, constipated reason for continuing on in the closet. Tweek accepted it. Not everyone was forced into revealing their sexual preference by an entire town. 

But they weren’t in South Park now. They were hardly the people that lived there. In fact, they were nothing and everything out here. Strangers in a strange world. Alright, he was getting hungry. Enough poetic musings.

“I eat weird. You’ll regret that offer.”

This time, his eye obeyed his desire to wink. Maybe he could achieve that smooth boyfriend status after all.

 

Kyle laughed. “It’s okay. I’m very picky.”

 

-x-

 

About four hours later, they were already back on the road. Everything had gone smoothly, the lunch, the walk back, the payment and the retrieval of the van and still, Kyle had grown more quiet again over time. As soon as they sat in the car again, he’d dug out his notes and began studying once more, tolerating only ballads and slow songs on low volume for his driver’s entertainment.

The sun was on its way towards the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful orange, purple and red hues. It passed Kyle entirely who was tense and concentrated, his lips mouthing on a pen, his eyebrows drawn together and his curls hanging into his face when he wasn’t ruffling his hair. Basically, the relaxation from earlier was gone and he had reverted back to his pre-incident state.

 

Tweek watched the sunset. It was slipping beyond his view and control, just like Kyle’s sweet mood from lunch. The diner had been thankfully uneventful, they’d shared a booth, a pleasant conversation, dessert. But ever since they got back in the van, Kyle’s smile gave way to a persistent frown. Tweek did his best to accommodate the drop in mood without complaint. The music was turned way down low (far too quiet for his taste), their conversation had died out and his eyes were on the road. It sprawled on ahead, unchanging, lulling him into a deep sense of boredom. This wasn’t what a roadtrip was supposed to be about. Where were the hijinks? Where was the adventure? Tweek wouldn’t count going a little ballistic on a slimy mechanic as an adventure at all, but he also didn’t want to tell Kyle that studying was boring his boyfriend. He wasn’t that selfish.

However, he did get a heaven(or hell, depending on your view)sent sign in the form of a sign for a holiday village. It was a little ways off, but Tweek took the turn when it came, the tires of the van crunching over gravel instead of the smooth concrete of the road they’d been on. The landscape gained some trees and fancy little houses, most of which were dark, but that wasn’t what Tweek was searching for. A glimmer of blue caught his attention and he decisively pulled into one of the little driveways, the van coming to a halt.

 

Only when the van stopped did Kyle look up from his notes. The change of noise coming from the ground under the wheels hadn’t bothered him, he’d been too deeply drawn into his studies to care. Also, he trusted Tweek to get him where they needed to be. Or had before they just stopped somewhere, next to what looked like a holiday bungalow.

“... pretty sure this is not California State. Where are we? What’s going on?”

Kyle looked over at Tweek who turned off the van and pushed open the driver’s door.

“Tweek?” Alarmed, Kyle put his notes away and went for his own door, following his boyfriend into the perpetual darkness.

 

Tweek checked the bungalow before ever even closing his car door, and that had good reason. By the time Kyle came around to his side, Tweek was already stripping off his shirt and throwing his keys onto the dashboard, along with his phone.

“There’s a pool,” he gave Kyle an absolutely cheeky look, his tongue poking out for a second and the stud in it glittering in the light of the setting sun, “I wanna go jump in it. You coming?”

 

Dumbstruck and in awe for a moment, Kyle just stared at Tweek, easily drawn in by the fact that his boyfriend was freaking hot when he was cheeky like this. Then, suddenly, he was in motion, following the example. His shirt came off, pulled messily over his head, then he went for his pants. By the time his brain caught up with his actions, he was in nothing but his shorts, following Tweek through the bushes towards the pool.

There was something about this that triggered the right kind of giddiness inside of Kyle, the kind that doing dumb shit and maybe getting caught for it usually did. Tweek wanted this and he would go with or without Kyle. No way he was going without him, not with the way Kyle’s brain had short-circuited. Happily, he ignored the warning his rational mind gave him, that this was dumb and they might get caught, and instead decisively clung to that almost childish excitement.

In front of them, the pool came into view and it must be some upper-middle-class family’s vacation residence that wasn’t currently here because everything looked cleaned up and uninhabited. Next to him, Tweek undressed entirely and that was how Kyle Broflovski learned that his boyfriend, in fact, did not like underwear on himself.

 

Tweek had left his jacket and shoes at the van, along with his keys and his phone. There was no one around, so it was probably okay to leave the car unlocked. Usually, he’d have at least ten reasons why this was a dumb idea, but with Kyle being on edge already, he didn’t feel any need to voice those reasons.  So here he was, stripped down to nothing now that his jeans had come off, in all of his naked glory. Whether that was a glorious sight to behold was all up to Kyle.

The pool shimmered in the light of the setting sun, completely still and clear. Not for long, though, because Tweek took a running leap and launched himself into the air, then hit the water with an almighty splash. It was pleasantly cool and smelled of chloride.

When he came up, he saw Kyle standing on the side, looking a little skeptical or in awe, the difference was hard to tell.

“Come in! There’s no one home, I checked!”

For another moment, Kyle stood still, eyes on Tweek in the pool. This was madness, he was pretty sure of it. And yet, something tickled him about it, urged him on to follow his boyfriend’s example and just go for it. Leave the heavy thought of the test looming over him out, keep it out of his mind and do something reckless. Kyle exhaled, then shook his head, smiled to himself, took three big steps and threw himself into the cool water as well.

It felt good, freeing even, to dive into it. When he came up, red curls strong enough to keep his hair from sticking flat to his head even when confronted with water, Kyle was smiling widely. He reached out to grab Tweek’s arm, pulled him in and brought their lips together.

Scratch good, this felt _ amazing _ . Tweek was warm and alive, they were being dumb boys in the middle of nowhere on a road trip, making out in someone’s pool that wasn’t even home.

Kyle could honestly surmise that he’d never felt more alive.

"This is pretty fun."

 

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to tell me how stupid an idea this is,” Tweek didn’t object in the slightest to being held close and dear in the water. Instead of glancing around frantically as his (returning) caution demanded, he was entirely absorbed by Kyle’s expression and soft praise. “I’m really glad you’re here. I don’t think I’d do something like this if I wasn’t trying so hard to impress you.”

 

Kyle’s laugh was more of a soft chuckle as he leaned his forehead against Tweek’s.

“You don’t have to impress me, I’m already dating you.” He proved it by kissing Tweek again. His heart was beating fast, probably the mixture of them doing something risky and forbidden and the fact that he was alone with his (naked) boyfriend. Kyle’s arms came up to loosely rest on Tweek’s shoulders. They didn’t break the kiss, even when they slowly sank down. Kyle held his breath, his eyes were closed anyway, but underwater-kissing was pretty damn romantic. It felt like an accurate representation of what Kyle felt about this whole trip, him and Tweek in another world that was just theirs alone.

Both of them were gasping for air when they finally came up and Kyle grinned.

 

The tension had evaporated and Tweek could barely believe a plan he’d come up with to distract someone from their problems had worked. But here they were, kissing in a pool, making a fine job of being romantic together. Tweek almost ran out of air, but thankfully, Kyle let him go just as he was about to start flailing.That would have ruined their moment for sure.

Kyle was grinning, relaxed and beautiful. Tweek could feel his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage. Yeah, he really liked this boy. This was what he was supposed to feel. This sort of overwhelming desire to be alone with Kyle on some remote island.

“Hey, do you remember fourth grade? When you guys wanted a new fourth friend?” Tweek could never quite remember what happened to Kenny, but he just assumed that he’d moved or been away for a while.

When Kyle nodded, with a mild case of confusion creasing his brow, Tweek continued,  “I was so happy when you gave me that rose,” he laughed it off, considering how stupid the notion was (and how quickly he was ‘fired’ from the fourth friend position).

 

Kyle’s expression softened remarkably and his grin turned to a smile. “Really? It was just a dumb thing because all of our moms watched this bachelor show or whatever it was called.”  He shook his head, then looked at Tweek again, an embarrassed, but happy little glint in his eyes.

"I always kinda liked you. Especially when you looked like it meant the world to you that I gave you a bullshit rose. I even had this weird dream about me proposing to you with the rose or something. It was weird.”

 

“It did mean to world to me, Kyle,” Tweek recognized the chance for some sweet talk and he seized it. Who knew when they’d next bring up a memory that fit so perfectly into a new, romantic perspective? Probably never, because after that time, Tweek had been part of Craig’s ‘gang’ and never again really looked to hang out with Kyle and his friends.

“Someone picked me. You picked me. It was a first for me.”

 

Tweek’s sweet words made Kyle’s brain evaporate slowly through his ears. That was what it felt like, he was unable to form a coherent sentence and reply to it, instead, he was embarrassed by the fact that here was a person who adored him, in every way possible, who openly admitted to it and expressed their feelings.

Stan had always been the one of them to be able to do feelings well. Kyle knew anger and resentment and care for others, but he’d never picked up on how flirting and being romantic with words really worked. And here was Tweek, telling him things that made his heart melt and Kyle, star team member of the debate club and not at all shy to argue and fight, was at a loss for words.

“I, uh… oh. That’s.. that’s nice. I mean. You’re nice.” Kyle stared at him and when Tweek’s lip twitched, Kyle swallowed. “God, I’m bad at this. Sorry.”

 

Tweek’s lip twitched into a smile. He could be very forgiving and patient with people who didn’t know how to deal with their emotions. He had years of practice with it, as a matter of fact. 

“That’s okay. We can go back to kissing instead. I like that a lot better than talking too.”

 

“Thanks. At least I have an idea of how to do that now.” Kyle whispered, managing to send Tweek a convincing smile as he caught his lips again in a searing kiss. Heat ran down his spine and he dared to snake an arm around Tweek’s waist, pulling his naked form closer to himself.  Kyle’s fantasy went haywire, helpfully supplying him with the idea of how Tweek would feel squeezed against him without the water between them, with his skin slick and Kyle’s wet shorts gone.  They were entirely alone. The thought of that gave Kyle enough courage to run his hand lower and slide his palm over the curve of Tweek’s ass, feeling him up in a very polite way.

 

A very, very polite way. Tweek knew what an ass on his hand felt like, squeezing and wanting. Kyle’s touch was a feather compared to the confident grab Tweek had gotten used to. But this was somehow more exciting. He didn’t know what to expect with Kyle. None of this had happened to him before, technically.

“Kyle, I want to-” Tweek’s tentative confession, however, didn’t have time to fully escape his mouth, because the porchlight of the cabin flared to life. It hadn’t, before, when Tweek and Kyle snuck into the garden and pool.

Worse than the sudden, jarring light, however, was the door opening and a figure standing in the door. Tweek felt his whole body go rigid.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck! We gotta go! Kyle go, go, GO!”

 

If it hadn’t been for the obvious visual input of lights blinding him now, Kyle’s brain would have probably been too sluggish, too focused on his sensory input to realize that Tweek wasn’t just randomly yelling, but that something was  _ wrong _ .

His head whipped around and he too saw the figure in the door. Immediately, Kyle started scrambling after Tweek who was already halfway out of the pool, diving and paddling until he finally felt the solid edge of the pool and pulled himself up. Behind them, there was yelling, but Kyle managed to grab their clothes in one big swoop. Arms full, he ran like his life depended on it.

 

Tweek climbed out first, but he’d turned to make sure Kyle was right there behind him. His clothes were scattered and he definitely didn’t have the presence of mind to remember what he’d dropped here in the grass.

 

“What are you kids doing in my fucking pool?!” the voice belonging to the figure sounded anything but friendly and Tweek saw something long and solid in the guy’s hand. He turned to run and follow Kyle before he could even see if it was being cocked.

 

“Shit, shit, he has a gun, run Kyle! Faster!”

His clothes didn’t matter. Their lives were suddenly at stake, even if there weren’t any bullets whistling through the air behind them. Tweek ran like a possessed, terrified cat, long, lean limbs flexing to carry him away. He scurried into the driver’s seat of his van. Kyle had barely thrown his door shut behind him and the tires were squealing as Tweek reversed as quickly as the beast could manage.

“Shit, shit shit we gotta go!” Wet, naked, terrified, Tweek managed a 180 turn out of the driveway and floored it, the direction completely irrelevant right now. They just needed to get away.

 

Kyle had thrown himself and all the clothes on the passenger’s seat, wet and dripping. He barely had managed to pull his feet in before the van started moving, the poor old engine protesting at Tweek’s harsh input. Breathing hard, eyes wide, Kyle managed to get a glimpse of the guy who had followed them in the driveway, a safe distance away already. In his hand, he wasn’t waving any gun or rifle, but a walking cane. Probably because he looked to be about eighty ears old.

Still, they didn’t talk or relax until they’d left the little village of holiday bungalows. Only then Kyle exhaled, arms crossed.

“I thought you said the house was empty.” His heart was still beating in his throat, hands clawed into the seat. They appeared to be safe now, but what if the guy called the police?

 

Tweek was staring at the street ahead, thoughts giving way to nothing but fear. Kyle didn’t need to voice his thoughts, they were already echoing in Tweek’s mind. Maybe it would have been better if they had some bullet holes to show for their little misdeed...

Only when they hit another truck stop did Tweek pull over, risking a glance to Kyle and finally answering his questions.

“I...I thought it was empty. There was no car, no lights on, the gate was unlocked...” it wasn’t an apology, but the explanation was better than awkward silence. Tweek let go of the steering wheel. He wished he could just get out of the car and scream into the night for a little bit. That would calm him down, and then he could work on calming Kyle down. Jesus, what the fuck had he been thinking? Breaking into someone’s property? They were lucky nothing worse happened. Tweek decided that movies featuring teenagers were never meant for the likes of him, because the thoughtless ‘fun’ those teenagers strove to have would actually kill Tweek.

He was naked and cold and wringing his hands, frantically trying not to look like a loser with an anxiety attack in front of Kyle.

“I’m sorry. I, I just wanted to take your mind off of that exam. I’m so sorry honey.”

 

Tweek’s stuttered explanation and his frantic movements brought Kyle to think rationally about this. If his boyfriend was bordering on an anxiety attack, he had to be the one with a clear mind.

To achieve that, he counted the facts.  They were in the middle of nowhere and already far gone from the guy and his pool. The guy had been old, probably had bad eyes and the number plate was covered in dust anyway. They hadn’t broken anything or hurt anyone.  The chance was very small that the police would go for an inter-state hunt for two kids hopping into someone's pool at night.

Kyle sighed and caught Tweek’s hands in his, voice calm when he spoke.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think we’re getting busted because of this. Just… just promise me that we won’t do shit like this again, yeah? I don’t need you to be reckless to take my mind off things.”

It was cute though, that Tweek wanted that. Kyle offered him a small smile.

“The pool didn’t even take my mind off, really. It was more the kissing to be fair.”

 

At least Kyle wasn’t mad. Tweek dared to meet his eyes now and found no accusation, no blame, not even anger. It let the tension melt off of him as he ran his fingers over Kyle’s hands.

“I left my pants.” And he was also still naked. Tweek laughed, maybe a little hysterically, but he was relieved nonetheless.

Maybe he didn’t have to try quite so hard to impress Kyle.

 

 


	18. ART BREAK!

There's 'official' art of what [the guys look like](http://maelikki.tumblr.com/post/172318519404/kyle-tweek-stan-and-craig-as-they-appear-in) in this story!

 

Also I would like to acknowledge [DHD's beautiful piece](http://dhdart.tumblr.com/post/171943614844/more-staig-based-off-billywick-football-au-i-saw) which is always fitting to our football Staig across the board.

EDIT:

Maelikki has drawn some more relevant things, so I will add them here.

Craig as he looks here

Stan the Wiggle-Chosen

Aaaand some football bois

 

 


	19. Haifisch [Stan&Craig]

“We’ll just go in, grab my stuff and go, okay? It won’t take long.” 

Stan looked over at Craig, promising, silently, that he wouldn’t have to put up with his family for long. Ideally, that was the case. It was Wednesday night. The bruises from their day spent trashing Craig’s dad’s car had still not faded. A few new ones had joined the roster from football practice, which they were both back to attending regularly. Craig had worked his magic on Stan’s confidence, and coach Mason had silently thanked him for it. Surprisingly enough, he hadn’t even kicked up a fuss about his Center and Quarterback looking a little more rough than usual. At least, he’d promised not to call home and see what was going on, although Stan and Craig had come up with a casual excuse as to what happened to them. They never needed it, though.

He left his jeep, glancing over at the Broflovski house. It was weird to think that Kyle wasn’t there. He’d left just yesterday, but it already felt like a week without him. Craig was a good distraction, though, and when Stan spent time with him, he almost forgot that he missed Kyle. 

Who had left with Tweek. Stan still had to wonder how that happened, how long Craig’s ex-boyfriend had been eyeing his best friend. Maybe he should get around to giving Tweek a lecture about not breaking Kyle’s heart, but he didn’t feel qualified to do that. Even though he’d seen the aftermath with Craig, Stan was still the one to have hurt Kyle that summer, when he rejected his advances. He was just as bad, right?

Right.

His musings about Kyle took his mind back to the guy following him into his house. Maybe he should tell Craig about Kyle and Tweek. As far as Stan knew, Craig was entirely unaware of that particular relationship, and even though things between Stan and Craig had become something beyond friendship, he knew that Craig’s heart was not healed from the fracture Tweek left in it.

 

Inside of the Marsh house, all three other inhabitants were bustling around, much to Stan's misfortune. Sharon was in the kitchen, cooking dinner which filled the living room with the amiable scent of shepherd’s pie. Randy was on the couch, watching the news and Shelly just came down the stairs, phone pressed to her ear.

 

“How was practice, Stan?” Randy’s voice. He didn’t look away from the TV therefore didn’t notice it wasn’t just his son to come inside. Shelly stayed on the phone, but eyed Craig all the way down the stairs, until she really had to turn her head away without it looking completely awkward. Sharon left the kitchen, tapped her daughter on the shoulder and motioned for her to clear out the dishwasher to which Shelly groaned audibly and complained on the phone.

Sharon rubbed her hand on the apron she was wearing and smiled at Craig.

“Hello Craig. You having dinner with us?”

 

Now, Craig really couldn’t say no. He was vaguely aware that Stan would hate this, but there was no way he could decline the offer just like that, especially since he wanted to hang out with the Marsh family’s youngest member.

“That’d be great, Mrs Marsh, thanks.” He replied, politely, and offered her a smile. Stan’s mom was actually nice and according to Clyde, she was a total MILF. Not that Craig cared about that, the only person (despite Shelly’s glances towards him) in this household he wanted to fuck was currently standing right in front of him, probably hating himself for even having suggested Craig should follow him inside.

 

“Stan, get the plates out on the table.”

 

“Uh, mom, we had plans, we’re not really-”

 

“Stan, do what your mom tells you to.” Randy rose from the couch, eyeing the guest in their house. The fact that Craig and Stan both outstripped Randy in stature rankled him a little, but he played it off with casual ease. He knew who this stranger was, he’d been in and out of their home quite a lot. Craig Tucker had a reputation. And not just for making trouble.

“Craig, right?” Randy hadn’t really talked to his son’s apparently new best friend, “sit down. You’re a guest.”

Stan sighed and obeyed his parents, sending Craig a long-suffering glance.

 

Craig, shrugged, now trapped with the Marsh family.  He couldn’t really do much about Stan’s glance, shrugging at him would not go past Randy. Craig knew it was important to behave in front of parents. Especially since they had no idea what he did or wanted to do with their son.  To be fair, not even Stan knew about his plans. Really, all Craig wanted was some time alone with him, without running the risk of getting interrupted, and therefore they’d originally planned to go to the cabin again (this time equipped with blankets, an inflatable mattress and lots of food and (alcoholic) drinks.

So far, so good, Stan knew all that. What he didn’t know was that Craig had lube and condoms with him and was pretty much set on using them on his tentative… well, guy. They weren’t really boyfriends yet, hadn’t discussed their awkward confessions to each other ever since that evening.

Tonight though, Stan was in for first class seduction. Which was why Craig was wearing skinny jeans and a casual shirt and vest in the first place. ‘Nice guy Craig’ he’d called the outfit when Stan had looked him up and down, but had not asked him what for. Stan had stopped eyeing him, but Stan’s sister had not. When Shelly was done with the dishwasher, she returned to the living room just to sit down at the table as well, side-eyeing Craig.

 

Everyone was eyeing Craig and it was getting on Stan’s last ounce of patience. Could his family possibly be weirder if they tried? Sharon kept sending him to do things and peeked into the living room. Shelly was sitting uncomfortably close and giving Craig the same attention she used to give to her tween crush celebrity posters, and that unnerved Stan more than the insecure look on Randy’s face, who clearly had a problem with the brickhouse build of Craig Tucker’s body. He was certainly sitting up straighter, puffing out his chest.

It was all tragically embarrassing and Stan was ready for death by the time all of the Marsh family was sat down. Shelly sat next to Craig, which put Stan on the opposite side of his usual seat, next to his mom, who was trying hard for a normal conversation.

 

“So, Craig, how is your mom? I haven’t spoken to Laura in a while.”

 

“She’s fine. Currently working on digging in the garden, I think she said something about planting vegetables because that’s healthier.”

Craig’s mom had always had a knack for all things natural and organic. Although she made him help with building the little plot in the garden, she was still Craig’s favourite family member. He was a mama’s boy, no regrets.

 

It was a bit odd, being here and being the center of attention, but not much more so than having been over at Clyde’s and answering his dad’s questions.  Or Tweek’s parents, which was probably a much more apt comparison that Craig really didn't want to think of right now. He also didn't want to think of why Stan's sister was giving him the eye right now.

 

Even an elbow from Stan didn't disrupt Shelly's intensity, though she did pause long enough to insult her brother.

"Aren't you supposed to take that stupid hat off at dinner, turd?"

 

Oh yeah, the nickname never left. It was just more proof of the loving home Stan loved to be away from. He  was tempted to tell his sister just what he thought of her drooling over Craig, but he bit his tongue. It used to be that his parents took his side over most things, just because Shelly was older than he. Now that Stan was twice as broad as his sister and towered over her, Shelly could do no wrong in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to shave your moustache before dinner, Shelly?”

 

“Stan, don’t be rude to your sister. And take your hat off.” Randy reprimanded, glancing at Craig again, who didn’t seem very put off his food. Good. The last thing Randy wanted was to get a bad rep in town. And the Tuckers sure liked to talk, almost as much as they loved flipping people off.

Stan snarled a curse under his breath and pulled the snapback off of his hair. It looked flat and lifeless under its usual disguise.

Randy nodded, satisfied with having exercised some authority over his son, then turned to Craig again.

“So, Craig, are you planning to play football as a career, like Stan? It’s very progressive of you to be out and proud now. I keep reading about highschool players being gay or whatever. Brave kids. I totally respect that.”

Stan suppressed a groan. Of fucking course Randy needed to have an opinion about Craig’s sexuality. It was probably the only thing the man remembered about his son’s new friend.

 

Craig finished chewing and took his time with it to find a proper answer. His eyes wandered over Stan who looked like he was beyond annoyed with his family and also pleading for his understanding at the same time. There was nothing to worry about for his friend, Craig knew how parents liked to talk about him being the local gay boy.

“Don’t think I have a chance, really. There isn’t one active NFL player that admits being even bi, I don’t actually think you can get there if you’re out.” He shrugged and looked at Mr Marsh’s face.

“I love playing ball, don’t get me wrong. I’m just not a superstar in the making. And I think it needs something like that to turn people’s minds around. Some dude that’s so awesome at the game that people forget he prefers guys. Even then though. It’s hard. Not just to come out but to stay in the closet for those guys that actually keep it a secret in order to have a job. Or a chance.”

 

Randy nodded sagely and gestured with his fork, “That’s exactly the kind of bigotry we need to get rid of, today. This is-” His answer devolved into a speech and Stan just shook his head, clearly having given up on trying to curb his father’s enthusiasm for issues he didn’t understand.  At least he wasn’t entirely ignorant, right? But showing off as some sort of modern liberal wasn’t really scoring Randy any points of respect either.

“Sorry about the monologue,” Stan interrupted, and Randy looked offended.

 

“Stan, it’s important we talk about these issues. What if someone else on your team was gay? How do you think they’d feel?”

 

“Pretty annoyed that you’re playing white knight again, probably. I know I am.” Stan squared up with a sullen look and Randy paled as he made a tiny glance to Craig, back to Stan, then somewhat panicked over to Sharon. She gave him a headshake that forbid further questions, but Randy didn’t pick up on the ‘subtle’ clue.

“Stan, I haven’t seen your little girlfriend in a while.”

 

Ah. There it was. Stan knew his dad was entering panic mode, trying to scramble for information.

“Probably because we broke up months ago, dad.”

 

“...but you still like girls, right?”

 

“Jesus Christ.” Stan dropped his fork and pinched the bridge of his nose. Couldn’t his stupid dad leave well enough alone? Did he have to do this right now, in front of Craig?

 

Sharon tried her best to save the derailing conversation.

“So, do you have a boyfriend, Craig? You’re a very handsome young man.”

 

Craig had continued eating and observed Stan’s reactions in secret. His dad was pretty annoying, but not as bad as his own. At least he tried to be okay with things. Stan’s mom saved her son by asking him a question instead, a question that had him grip his cutlery harder. Tweek was still a sore issue, it didn’t hurt anymore, but it was still present. Nothing he had forgotten yet, certainly.

“Thanks, Mrs Marsh. No boyfriend, got dumped. It’s not easy to find a new one, most guys I’d like enough to be my boyfriend prefer girls.” He underlined it with an easy smile and a shrug, like he didn’t care and like this wasn’t the tiniest of side-swings against Stan.

 

“You’re a gold-star gay?” Shelly asked, nonchalantly, while stabbing her pie. Her parents would probably have said something if they had understood what she was asking.

 

Craig didn’t mind. “Yeah. I was never into girls, really.”

 

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right one?” 

 

Craig snorted, not really offended by the rather offensive question. “I wouldn’t know, would I? But I’m not unhappy if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“Shelly, stop bugging our guest,” Sharon mildly scolded, trying to reign in Shelly’s brazen approach. 

Stan was still stuck on the ‘guys I’d like to be my boyfriend’. He was sure, eighty percent sure, that that comment had been directed at him. The other twenty demanded that he stop being so self-centered, but Stan was utterly enthralled.

 

“So you’re not dating Stan?” Randy was the first and worst to ask the question and Stan could have died, right there. He turned a very uncomfortable shade of red.

 

Craig looked up from his food again and his icy eyes wandered over to Stan. He looked cute, embarrassed like that, ready for Craig to devour him.  But they were friends, he had his back.

“Last time I checked he was into girls exclusively.” Craig said, neutrally, but then added with a sweet little smirk, “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to date your son, Mr Marsh. Stan isn’t just a prize for the girls, you know?”

He chuckled at the Marshs’ flabberghasted expressions.

 

“He’s a turd.” Shelly broke the shocked silence and finished up her food. Randy and Sharon shared a look (of relief, possibly) and laughed, returning to some meaningless chitchat with each other.

Stan, however, was definitely not over what Craig had said, and suddenly, the prospect of being alone with Craig in the cabin took on a whole, other meaning. Craig was considering him like that? Like, a potential boyfriend? It stole Stan’s breath and made his heart run a weird little marathon, but he said nothing as dinner continued. Only after dessert and clearing the table, when the two teenagers were released from family routine, did Stan really dare think of the evening with both dread and hope in his chest.

The cool evening breeze outside ruffled his hair and he replaced his snapback to its proper position.

“So that wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

 

Craig shrugged, enjoying the cool fresh air outside.

“Before you ask: All parents I’ve encountered ask about my sexuality. All of them. Even Tweek’s and their own son is gay, so that’s that. Don’t worry about it. In case you were planning to.”

As per usual, he slid into the front seat of the Jeep and pushed his backpack (filled with blankets and drinks) onto the backseat.

 

Stan looked tense behind the steering wheel, or maybe that was just Craig’s imagination. His first urge was to reach out and squeeze his thigh reassuringly, but he stopped himself from it, knowing full well that they were in fact, not boyfriends. As he’d said earlier, Stan was into girls, officially. And also into him.

 

Instead of talking, Stan turned on the music, some gachi stuff that they usually laughed about, but this time he clicked it away quickly. Something was up, definitely, but Craig decided to wait for Stan to tell it to him on his own accord. Stan had never felt nervous about being alone with Craig before. It was new, and not necessarily a good feeling. The music distracted him, somewhat, but all he could think of now was that Craig must have been living under the impression that Stan was inviting him to the cabin to live out his secret, closeted, gay fantasies, without giving up his straightness. That was the only, plausible explanation.

And Stan wasn’t ready to admit that it wasn’t true.

“I think my sister wants to bone you. That’s horrifying.”

 

Craig chuckled.

“Your sister is probably hot, but I wouldn’t get it up. I’m just not into women. Like, not at all. Tweek is more straight than I am.” He’d added the comment out of nowhere and was surprised that it didn’t hurt that much to talk about his ex anymore, “Your dad’s trying pretty hard to be PC, still?”

“Oh, you noticed, huh? Yeah, he’s really subtle. Amazing, how he can be homophobic and progressive in one, right? He’s totally scared that I turn out gay, because then I can’t become an NFL player, and that’s all he’s talked about since I made the team.” Stan’s shoulders tensed, despite the casual dismissal in his voice. His dad’s opinion mattered, no matter how much Stan downplayed it.

 

It was hard not to notice that it affected Stan. Craig caught up on the notion easily and this time, he did go for the hand on Stan, although not on his thigh but his arm.

“What about you? Are you scared of being gay? Do you want to make it to the NFL or is that all your dad?”

 

“It’s...well, it’s my dream to play football. I’ve never been this good at anything else. It kinda freaks me out to think that something completely unrelated could ruin it all for me, you know? What does it matter if I like girls, or guys? How does that make me any different at throwing a damn ball, or reading a play?” The anger came, unbidden and not directed at Craig. Stan just needed to get it off of his chest, and Craig was a great amplifier for his problems.

“I don’t know, man. I could be gay. Maybe I’m bi. What the fuck does it matter? Why is it everyone’s business? The only people that should care about it are me and you, and maybe Kyle, because I fucked him over too. Jesus Christ. Kyle is gonna be so hurt if he ever finds out how much...how we...Fuck. And we haven’t even done that, yet, either, but it’s all I can think about. I can’t stop, Craig, and it’s fucked up. I should have gone with him, but I didn’t. Football is more...football is my whole, stupid life, and my best friend is off on some adventure and all I can think about is how he was right, and I am gay, and I’m gonna end up paying with it with something and it’s gonna suck.”

Stan wanted to punch through the windshield, but a small budget for car repairs and love for his jeep kept him from doing exactly that.

 

How was this about Broflovski? Craig frowned, adding two and two together. So the rumours were true, in some form, and Stan and Kyle had at least had some gay notion about them at some point.

“Okay, Marsh, sort your brain. There’s several issues, right? One being that you might be gay and can’t come out if you wanna play for the NFL. The other one is that you think you fucked your best friend over by being gay with me? First one is shit, but you can’t change that. It’s not like you can’t be gay, you just can’t be openly gay. Second one is also shit, but open for evaluation. What do you think you have to pay for? Why would he be mad if you turn out gay?”

 

"No...well, yes,” Stan could file away the comfort of being unable to do anything about the whole NFL debacle for now as just that, but his issue with Kyle, that demanded a talk.

“I hurt him. I know I did, because nothing’s been the same between us since...since he told me that he liked me. Like that. In a gay way. And I told him that I just, could never be. And...it wasn’t fucking true back then, I was just too much of a pussy to admit to to him or myself.” Stan pulled up at the side of the mountain road. They weren’t far from the cabin now, but he didn’t trust his hands on the wheel anymore. Instead, he looked over at Craig.

“I broke his heart. My best friend in the whole world, and I broke his heart.”

 

Craig looked at him, at Stan’s vaguely shaky hands and reached over to pull them into his, holding them steady, with warm hands as he regarded his friend with a reassuring look. He knew that Stan wasn’t a guy without damage, he’d known his family wasn’t the most stable and about his alcohol excesses at parties, the lingering mild depression. But he really hadn’t expected there to be an issue with the only thing that seemed stable in his life, his friendship to one Kyle Broflovski.

 

He squeezed Stan’s fingers, gently.

“You know you're not obliged to be into him, just because he's gay, right? That's not how it works. He can't be pissed at you for doing gay shit with someone else. And if he's really your best friend, then he should forgive you no matter what, anyway.”

 

“Dude,” Stan could easily listen to Craig talk all night. Blame rolled off of him like tar, usually, but Craig was cutting through the heavy guilt that Stan was usually steeped in (by his own doing, mostly). 

“...Thanks. I guess I kinda needed that.”

Craig was a good friend. Better than good friend. Stan leaned across to him, brushing a kiss to the corner of Craig’s mouth, grateful for his company, “I don’t get why Tweek ever broke up with you. Sorry, but he’s a fucking idiot. You’re probably the best boyfriend anyone could ever have.”

 

“Well,” Craig shrugged, not reacting to the kiss much, but he’d enjoyed it anyway, “He said because basically… he didn’t love me and he wanted to try things with other people. It’s an ass move, but if he hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be here.”

He wasn’t usually this emotionally open, but Stan had just shared what had probably been a well-kept secret of his. And Craig was aware now that he liked Stan in the exact gay way that he’d mentioned Broflovski confessing to him.

“Is it difficult for you? With me? Because you know I like you, are you trying to figure out how to let me down gently?” Craig leaned down and pressed his lips to Stan’s knuckles.

 

“I don’t....no, that’s not what I’m doing.” Stan gulped down a case of nerves, but found the lump still lodged in his throat. Craig had said it so easily. He liked Stan. He really liked Stan.  He would probably date Stan, too, if he had the chance.  And Stan? He really, really wanted to give him the chance, honestly.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I like you, Craig. I just...don’t know if I can have a boyfriend. I...I think I want to be with you, like that. Fucking gay, I know, but...I don’t know if I can be. I can’t hold your hand. I can’t kiss you. I can’t even tell you that I think you’re fucking beautiful, not ever. People couldn’t know. I...I’m fucking scared. I can’t not care what people think. You can shrug it off. Kyle has a thousand things he’s good at, where no one cares if he likes girls or boys. But me?” Stan shuddered. Football wasn’t the only thing riding on his shoulders, wasn’t the only thing pulling his head under water.

 

Hearing Stan admit to what had been in the air between them for a long time was pretty awesome. Not so awesome though was the fact that Stan looked nauseous, like he really felt unwell.

“Let me drive, babe.” Craig said, using the nickname casually. Marsh believed they couldn’t be boyfriends just because they couldn’t be open about it. Craig didn’t care. Craig just wanted to be with him, one way or the other. And if it meant that they had to have getaways like this, then so be it.

When they met outside, in front of the Jeep, to switch seats, Craig pulled him into his arms, in one tight hug.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m in this with you, if you want me to.”

 

Stan didn’t fight the hug, there was something warm and addictive about Craig that he was not getting enough of. He buried his face in Craig’s shoulder, sucking in the familiar scent. The jeep’s warm hood ticked softly, but apart from that, there was no sound to be heard on the mountain road. Stan turned his face to Craig’s neck to speak.

“Not like, _pissing myself_ scared,” he muttered, trying to preserve some of his dignity, “but I want you. In this with me. I want you, Craig, if it wasn’t obvious before.”

 

“I’m glad.” Craig said, and then with a deadpan voice, “Because I’m not sure I’m into watersports, Marsh.” He received a (well-deserved) punch to the chest and laughed, but Stan’s smile was what counted. When they were back in the car and on the road, Craig put his hand on Stan’s thigh like it belonged there.

“So you’re my boyfriend.” He stated, casually, just to make sure it had been said out loud at least once.

 

“...Yeah. For all intent and purpose, I am. But no one can know.” Stan breathed deeply, then deflated into the seat, still warm from Craig’s occupation. He had a boyfriend. Huh. It didn’t feel any different than before, just that he felt slightly more justified in thinking heated thoughts about what Craig could do to his body.

His hand found Craig’s on his thigh.

“I’m your fucking  _ boyfriend _ now, Tucker. Get used to it.”

 

“No need to use swearwords, Marsh.” Craig grinned and steered the Jeep onto the uneven path through the forest towards the cabin. 

Once they had arrived, unpacked and got a fire going, Craig’s thoughts were already back on track with his original plan. He was going to give Stan a few minutes to digest their earlier conversation, but by the way he was eagerly returning the kiss going on between them right now, maybe he didn’t need more minutes.

Stan’s body was warm under the blankets around them and Craig let his hands roam freely, exploring his boyfriend’s shapely form without hesitation.

 

It was so much easier than Stan had imagined, but that in itself might get to be a problem. Craig was sweet and slow with him when he could have been rough and impatient, and yet, Stan still hesitated. He felt like he needed to cleanse his soul before any of this was okay and there was one secret he’d not let Craig in on, a secret that might put him off of this altogether.

“Craig?” he asked softly when they broke their kiss, their bodies pressed close, their fingers greedy for each other, “did you do this a lot, with Tweek? Was he good at it?”

 

The question put Craig off only for a few seconds, before he buried his face in Stan’s neck again, lips moving against skin.  He finally replied, but didn’t sound very interested in talking about his ex right now.

“Yeah, we did it a lot. He was good, at least I thought so. Keep in mind I don’t have a comparison at hand though. But he knew where to put his hands, if that’s what you want to know. Always said I was a horndog, but he’s a bit of one himself. Why?”

 

“No reason,” yes, of course there was a reason, but Stan had to wonder why it came to mind right now. Craig’s breath sent tingles down his spine and he wanted nothing more than to wrap all of himself around his newly acquired boyfriend, but Kyle and Tweek’s roadtrip wouldn’t leave his mind.

“It’s just...I want to know that Kyle is in good hands. Since he kinda told me that they’re dating now.”

 

Stan might as well have emptied a bucket of ice water over his head. Craig felt cold, suddenly, stopped his eager ministrations and sat up. His fingers pulled down his shirt and jacket again, eyes on his boyfriend.

“Tweek is dating Broflovski?”

He couldn’t tell why that bothered him so much. Stan and he were here right now, but the memory of Tweek’s nimble fingers, his sweet, but self-confident smile Craig had thought would always be reserved for him in combination with the thought of him and Broflovski getting it on… It did bother him enough to get up.

“Sorry. I just need some air, just…” Craig couldn’t even put words to it. He’d thought it’d been final before, but now, knowing now that Tweek was beyond his reach, forever, the last years spent between them a closed off chapter that he’d never open again… That hurt. Losing Tweek had been like losing part of his time growing up. It wasn’t so much his heartbreak anymore, it was the knowledge that an essential part of his life now belonged to someone else, forever for him to miss.

He stumbled into the forest, blindly, without keeping track of where he was going until he found a cut-off tree stump somewhere and sat down. Craig didn’t cry, but his eyes burned like he had to and his nose was stupidly sniffly and he was pretty sure he hated Kyle Broflovski. The guy who probably made Tweek not even think about him, about what an ass he had been and how he should say sorry and then they could at least be friends.

Craig wanted to be friends with Tweek, he didn’t want to lose him like this, he was too important.

 

Stan didn’t get much choice about letting Craig disappear into the night, and the cozy atmosphere of the cabin turned frosty as soon as his boyfriend shut the door behind him. Should he not have told him? But Craig had a right to know, didn’t he?   There was only one explanation that could solve this puzzle, even if Stan didn’t like its meaning, at all.

Craig wasn’t over Tweek.

That made sense, but it also hurt. Like hell. Craig had been so enthusiastic about dating Stan just an hour ago, but the mere mention of Tweek had sent him running off into the forest. What the hell was Stan supposed to think about it, other than that he was little more than a rebound, gone too far? The bottle of whisky was half empty before Stan even dared to spin that thought further. The lump in his throat wasn’t happy nerves anymore, it was bitter, cold truth. And it stung like a knife in the heart.

 

Somewhere in the forest, Craig rubbed his face.

He had thought he was over Tweek, and he was, he didn’t want him back, not as his boyfriend. What he wanted was a goddamn apology and for them to be friendly with each other. Tweek knew so much about him and he in turn about Tweek that it hurt to throw all of it away, even more than the initial heartbreak.

But no, Tweek was out there, somewhere, on the way to Cali-fucking-fornia with his brand new boyfriend, not even wasting a thought about what they’d meant to each other. They’d been kids most of the time, for god’s sake, most of their relationship had been them being the closest of friends that shared everything!

Tweek being so careless about this wasn’t like him but then again, he didn’t feel like he knew the new Tweek anyway.

 

Stan waited, but the cabin remained quiet. Between the crackle of the fire and the silence, the whiskey bottle grew empty fairly quickly. He felt awful, and it wasn’t because of the dizzying effect of getting drunk too fast.   Craig was out there, upset, hurt, again, because of Tweek. And now, Stan was hurt too, all because of one callous asshole.

He waited for half an hour, then he pulled on his coat. Fine. If Craig needed to cry about this, the least Stan could do was be there for him. He could stuff down his own hurt and be there for Craig, because he was good at that. The pain in his heart didn’t matter right now. It was cold outside and Craig hadn’t even taken his jacket. Rational worry drove Stan out into the dark.

“Craig?” he called as he tottered around the snow, flashlight in hand. The eternal snow of the mountain turned everything eerie and pretty at once. Stan was pretty sure there was something in the woods, something large and living that used to terrorize him when he stayed here as a kid and his uncle would tell him ghost stories.

But the thought of Craig, the need for him, it drove Stan on.

“Craig? Where are you?!”

 

It was cold out here and Craig hadn’t only not taken a jacket, he had also no light except the dim shine coming from his cellphone. Useless, especially for orientation. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was lost and by now, half an hour later, it was a little stupid to just leave Stan hanging like that.

The whole thing certainly wasn’t his fault and he probably thought it was. Craig got up and wandered aimlessly around for another ten minutes until he heard a faint voice from somewhere.

  
“Stan?” He called, loudly, following the noise.

 

The woods were kinda fucking scary at night. What a horrible time to remember all of Jimbo’s crazy, creepy stories about what lived in the woods. Stan gripped the flashlight tightly, huddling into his coat. A muffled noise in the distance. It could have been an owl, or a bobcat...

“Craig?!” he really needed to find him, now. This wasn’t just about letting Craig bitch and rant to him instead of the wintery world, this was Stan, just simply worried for his safety.

“Craig, you asshole, where did you go?” Stan followed what looked like a beaten path, deeper into the woods.

 

Craig stared into the darkness, hands pushed into his pockets. He was freezing by now, this had been a stupid idea altogether.  It wouldn’t help if he called Stan now, he couldn’t see anything anyway so they couldn’t decide on a landmark that Craig had to follow to get back (especially since landmarks were rare in a forest).

He was just about to give up hope and admit defeat and that he’d have to wait until morning when he saw the dim ray of a flashlight bouncing in the distance. It was not very likely that anyone else was running around in these woods, so it must be Stan, right? Right. Everything else would have been too damn creepy and Craig did not want to think about all the horror movies he’d seen that included deep, dark forests.

“Stan!” Craig called and moved over towards the light, breaking into a light jog and then full on running until he slowed down again (couldn’t let Stan see how glad he was and how much he wanted to be close to him again). His boyfriend was pulled into a tight hug.

 

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing,” Stan muttered, arms tight around Craig, who felt like an icicle all over. Were his lips blue? Was he about to turn into a winter wraith? Stan examined him, finding no early onset of death, but a very cold teenager. Concern knitted his brow and he shrugged out of his coat.

“Put this on. Fuck, we gotta get you back. I’m gonna tell you how fucking stupid it was to run off into the woods at night when your lips aren’t blue anymore, okay?”

“I-I’m good.” Craig said, teeth clattering. Now that Stan mentioned it, he was pretty damn cold. And that wasn’t made better by him having to explain himself. He took the coat, gratefully, even though it was a little bit too small for him, it did wonders for the freezing feeling. Craig reached for his hand and didn’t let go until they had found their way back to the cabin.

They didn’t speak until they were both sat in front of the fireplace, wrapped in thick blankets.

It was Craig who began, he was the one with the apology to make.

“I’m sorry, Stan.” He said, quietly, looking over at him, judging his expression. Stan was worried, more than anything, but there was also disappointment, maybe even hurt. Craig exhaled slowly. He owed him an explanation for that detour, at least.

“I’m not in love with Tweek, not anymore. It’s not about that, if you’ve been wondering.” It felt good to say that and know he wasn’t lying, “It’s just… he was a big part of my life for a great chunk of my life and that’s just… gone, like that. Because Broflovski has a nice ass, you know? That’s not fair. It’s like I want that part back from him, it’s like he’s taken it with him and all I’ve left is a big hole with some empty, sad memories.”

 

Stan was indeed hurt and yeah, he kind of deserved an explanation, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if he believed Craig. Who ran off into the woods to lament the fact that they were losing a part of their life? They were both sixteen, for Christ’s sake, how much could Tweek take of Craig? How much longer until he stopped being so important?

At least Craig was here now. Stan leaned against his shoulder and said nothing for a while, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket. Maybe he shouldn’t have rushed into this with Craig. It was obvious he was still hurting. Apparently, Tweek had ripped holes into Craig that Stan just couldn’t patch up.

“Kyle’s not just a piece of ass, Craig. Don’t talk about him like he’s some brainless bimbo. He’s my best friend.”  _ And Tweek is taking him away from me _ . He didn’t voice that thought. He couldn’t confess to his jealousy, or the selfish instinct that Kyle should only ever have Stan for company. It would complicate things for both him and Craig.

“...do you think we...got ahead of ourselves? Do you wanna stop? Because I can’t be second place to Tweek, I’m a shitty loser.” he asked, resigned to hearing the truth. It would be the shortest relationship in his records, certainly, if Craig broke up with him an hour after asking him out.

 

Craig had just been about to say that he clearly hadn’t stated Kyle was just a piece of ass, just that he had a nice one and that Tweek was most definitely into that, but then Stan was talking about canceling the whole boyfriend thing and that had Craig up in arms.

“You don’t understand!” He almost snapped, and it wasn’t often that Craig Tucker snapped at you. Comments like icicles, sure, but he very rarely lost his temper, not even when he was working on his infamous teeth-collection. Craig realised his tone and puffed up body posture and tried his best to calm himself down. “Look, Stan. You’re not second place to Tweek. I don’t want him back, I really don’t. I just don’t wanna think about all this time, a significant time of my life, as nothing but a shitshow because I spent it with a guy that decided one day to the other he was done with me, just like that. Exchanged me.”

That was putting it harshly and Craig knew Tweek had his reasons and all, but he needed to make a point.

“How does it feel, huh? I know you’re not into him, but what about you and Broflovski? Aren’t you feeling kind of left behind? Even though you shouldn’t? Deep down inside of you, aren’t you afraid he’s going away and there’s nothing you can do about the memories you have of him getting this sour aftertaste?”

 

“That’s different,” Stan could lose his temper too, but he felt too sullen to start yelling and standing his ground. He’d just have to dig in deep and withstand any accusations, no matter how close to the truth they actually got.

“Kyle isn’t leaving me behind, just because he got a boyfriend. He’s still my best friend no matter what. That’s not the same as being jealous over your ex.” Stan shrugged and heaved a sigh, now clenching the edge of the blanket.

“Kyle would never ditch me.”  _ He would. He had. _ Not now, but years ago. Old wounds rarely healed, and Stan never forgot the birthday that almost cost him the person most important to his young life. Kyle never did understand that Stan was always, ever since his tenth birthday and its disastrous aftermath, afraid of losing him. The drinking and football helped ease the depression’s grip, but the fear sat deep, still.

 

“It’s not so different though.” Craig insisted and crossed his arms. It was hard to explain this, he hadn’t really ever put words to it, but for Stan’s sake, he needed to try, right now, “Tweek was not just my boyfriend. In fact, he wasn’t ever primarily my boyfriend even though everyone always saw it like that, I know. More than anything, Tweek was my best friend, my best friend in the whole world.” Craig repeated the words Stan had used before. maybe it would make him understand how much this meant to Craig.

“And now he’s gone and I’m here, not just without my former boyfriend. I can live with that, that’s fine, but without my best friend as well. Just because he decided he wanted to try other people. He didn’t even let me in on that thought. That’s not fucking fair, he was my friend and he ditched me like it never meant the same to him like it did to me.”

This time his eyes were burning and his sight was swimming, but Craig didn’t want to cry. Stan had seen him cry before, at the beginning of all of this, bawling his fucking eyes out, but this was different. This was not just heartbreak, this was Craig feeling alone and left behind.

 

The tears Craig didn’t spill told Stan the unspoken rest. His best friend? His Kyle? Had Tweek and Craig been that close? If he counted down the years they’d been together, it kind of made sense. They spent so much time together, it was probably impossible not to get along. Even when they were just everyone’s favorite obsession.

Stan looked at Craig. Looked past the stupidly hot shape of his face, past the bored expression usually plastered to it, and he saw someone sad and broken and breathtakingly familiar. It was like looking into a mirror, one that Stan couldn’t bear the sight of for long.

He tugged Craig’s arm around him instead of his own self and pulled him into a hug. Maybe Craig wasn’t heartbroken anymore, but he was still mourning something and needed someone. No, not someone. He needed Stan.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, because that’s what you were supposed to tell people when they were sad, “it’s okay. You’ve...you’ve got me, and I have you. I’m sorry I got pissed, Craig. I think I get it.”

 

Craig didn’t say anything. For a while, he just hung lifelessly in Stan’s arms, easily exhausted by feeling too much at once.  At first it felt odd and he almost wanted to tell Stan to let go off him and leave him alone, but the guy was holding him tightly, like he meant what he’d said, like he did not want to let him go. His inner protest slowly came to a halt and he dissolved in Stan’s arms, cheek pressed to his chest, arms coming up to rest around his hips loosely.

It took a while until he trusted his voice enough to speak with it.

“This cabin… I’m sure it’s something about it. We always get emotional here.”

 

“Yeah, kinda. It’s the best place to be alone,” Stan stroked over Craig’s hair, smoothing his fingers over his head, gently. The passionate heat from earlier wasn’t coming back, but instead, a pleasant warmth rose up in him. It felt good to be there for someone. It felt good to comfort someone he cared about.

“Kyle hates it here. So, you know, it’s kinda our place, you and me. Our place to be manly and cry and shit.”

Not that either of them were crying, but Stan still felt like some weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Strange how that always happened, here.


	20. Shine Down [Everyone]

His nails were getting shorter and shorter. Maybe he needed to stop biting them and substitute with something else, but he’d run out of chewing gum about twenty minutes ago. The parking lot of the university was mostly empty, and that was probably due to holidays or whatever. Tweek didn’t really care, as long as he wouldn’t get another ticket. He really couldn’t afford one of those. 

He couldn’t afford a lot of things, and this roadtrip was solely coming out of Kyle’s pocket by now, mostly because the repairs to Tweek’s van had devoured the small batch of money he’d been able to take along.

But none of that mattered right now. Tweek let his poor nails be and breathed in deeply. The joint was already working its magic for his anxiety, but the jitters were still there. Would Kyle find out the result his entire future depended on right away, or would they send him home and force him to wait?

It was nerve-wracking. Tweek had to wonder if it was always this exhausting to worry about someone else, and he had to, unwillingly, think back to Craig’s endless patience. God, he really needed to talk to his ex. This entire roadtrip was working wonders for Tweek and Kyle, and yet, it also hammered home that he’d been a dick. A really, really harsh dick.

His apology to Craig was a thing on his definite to do list. There was no dodging that. But right now? His eyes clung to the steps of the university building, waiting for the hopefully triumphant return of Kyle.

 

Students came out in batches or alone, without a real pattern. They walked down the stairs, chattering, sunken in thoughts, busy or dreamy, but none of them were Kyle. At least not for the following few minutes. Then, the door on the far right opened wide and Kyle felt like a champion when he walked down the stairs, result of his exam in hand. Near perfect score, some 98 points out of 100, accepted for the course and invited to send his application for a scholarship.

He was aware he was beaming, he couldn’t keep the big-ass grin from his face and Kyle didn’t even care that his hair was one big mess after the hour-long exam that had him in deep hair-pulling concentration. The last step he finished with a bounce and then all but bolted over to Tweek only to jump at him and wrap his arms around his boyfriend, still careful of the paper in hand however.

“I did it!” Kyle brought out, “Holy fuck, I’m in, dude!” He pushed Tweek back a little, gave him one big smile and a big kiss on the lips. Didn’t matter that he smelled like weed, Kyle was the happiest guy in the universe, light as a feather without all the pressure on his shoulders.

 

Tweek couldn’t really do anything when Kyle bear-hugged him like that. He was also a little bit too blazed out to understand completely what Kyle was saying, other than that his exam had gone well. He’d done the thing they’d come here to do. Which was great, perfect, and definitely put Kyle in the mood Tweek had hoped for.

This was good. No, better, great! That was basically what came out of his mouth when Kyle gave him the chance to give him any kind of verbal response.

“Oh thank god. I was definitely not ready to cheer you up if you didn’t get it. Not that I thought you couldn’t do it! I just, uh, you know, worst case scenario.”

Tweek’s phone chimed, but he ignored the alert. This was way more important, being with Kyle in this sweet moment.

 

Kyle laughed, squeezing Tweek’s arms in his hands.  He hugged him again, tightly. His phone was still muted, but buzzed like crazy in his pocket.

“Sorry, this won’t stop, probably my mom.”

When he activated his phone, there were twenty-seven new messages. Kyle frowned at it and tapped them. This probably wasn’t his mom, this was something else entirely. He scrolled to it, lots of disbelieving comments in various group chats, until, finally, he got to the source of it. 

If he’d been asked, Kyle would not have been able to describe what he was feeling about what he saw. The facebook screenshot shared in the group chat was, well… entirely unexpected.

Wordlessly and with an odd sensation in his belly, smile wiped from his face, Kyle turned his phone and showed it to Tweek.

 

Tweek was pretty sure that nothing on that little screen could shock him, but he’d be proven very, very wrong. It was chaos in text form, the notifications ticking up fast in the top left corner of the phone, but Tweek couldn’t really tear his eyes away from the screenshot.

It was Craig’s profile, familiar with his blue theme and picture folders of guinea pigs, but the status in the middle of the page dominated everything. Tweek hadn’t seen it change since that friday when he broke Craig’s heart, when it had become a solemn little ‘single’.

It was no longer that. Right there, on the page, it said ‘in a relationship’. Below the status, messages exploded, most of them demanding ‘who’ ‘when’ and ‘how’, but Craig had chosen to ignore all of them. Only Clyde’s triple question mark comment got a response, and it was there that Tweek found the answer.

‘Marsh’.

 

There wasn’t any doubt about why Kyle looked thunderstruck, anymore. Tweek choked down a ‘told you so’ and just breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wow. That’s...that’s something. You gonna call Stan?”

 

Kyle stared at Tweek, still, even after the initial reaction had already passed. It was comforting to see that his boyfriend’s world still seemed to turn normally, it helped pushing his own onwards again from the momentary stand-still. After a few seconds, his brain self-activated. This was just a stupid screenshot, right? And who knew, maybe Craig had made a joke? Joke or not, this was probably putting a dent in Stan’s steep chances to play for the NFL one day. In spite of his confused feelings (was he happy for Stan or goddamn jealous), Kyle felt the need to be there for his best friend, to at least find out if he was even aware of it.

He turned to Tweek, already on his way to go sit in the van.

“I gotta call him, yeah. Sorry, this is important.”

Once he made it to the pillows in the back, Kyle pressed dial.

 

-x-

 

Somewhere, somehow a phone was ringing. Craig, still half-asleep and unfazed by the previous dozens of times phones had vibrated and chimed around them, grunted. This specific ringtone of Marsh’s was killing him.

His arm over the bundle of blankets next to him moved, shaking it ever so slightly.

“Babe.” Craig murmured, voice sleep-ridden as he turned a little towards his bed companion. When he got no reaction and the phone was still blaring with some fucking 80s bullshit disco song, Craig pushed himself up to lean over Stan and pull the blanket off of him.

“Do something about your phone or I will.”

 

Craig was a rude piece of shit, no matter what time of day. Stan had been doing so well on ignoring the fact that his phone was ringing, instead working on being a full-time blanket burrito. Cold air hit him and he jolted upright, bleary-eyed but awake.

“Alright, alright, give me that back,” Stan made a hopeless grab for the blanket and found Craig unrelenting. And hot, but that was a secondary concern.

With a groan, he closed his hand around his phone let his eyes drag over the caller ID. Kyle?

What time was it? Was he okay? It was kind of weird of him to voice call instead of just texting, but whatever.

He answered, because it was Kyle.

 

“Hey, dude. You’re up...early,” Stan blinked over at his PC. It was a little past noon. He and Craig had spent too much time last night not sleeping, definitely. But hell, his parents had been out and they’d made the most of it. Stan didn’t see fit to do anything more than worm his way back under the blanket, his back warmed by Craig’s body.

Craig wrapped a lazy arm around Stan and pulled him against him, face pushed into his boyfriend’s neck. Perhaps he could get some more sleep, Stan’s sleep-slow voice was nice to listen to while drifting off into the void.

 

Halfway across the country, Kyle was a little disbelieving. Stan was usually not a long sleeper, he was an early bird who liked to work out and be active in the morning. If he slept long, that meant he’d been busy last night which all kind of worked with the picture he was getting here.

Kyle couldn’t help but picture Stan and Craig together, and while it was all sorts of odd, it was (a) not the first time Kyle had secretly pictured his best friend being intimate with a guy and (b) they were so smoking hot together, Kyle got angry with himself for finding it to be such a turn on to think about.

“Dude, what’s with that thing on facebook? I swear I got twenty messages per second about it. I’m glad I’m not home I’d probably be interviewed by local press or whatever.” Kyle tried to make it casual, just a best friend asking about a personal update. Okay, he could sound a little butthurt because Stan hadn’t told him directly.

“Tucker changed his facebook status to ‘in a relationship’ and said to Clyde it’s you. Everyone is going nuts. I need a statement from you.”

 

“Oh. Shit.”

Stan wanted to be mad, but Craig had sort of warned him and it was his own damn fault that he’d been too breathless about a blowjob to argue the logic of coming out like this. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, either.

But it was.

Fuck, it had barely been a night and Kyle already knew, across the country. God only knew what kind of mayhem was happening on the social networks frequented by every kid in town. Stan never returned to Facebook, but he bet that Craig’s feed was rampant with questions and curious onlookers. They hadn’t thought this through at all. Stan shrunk further into Craig’s arms, as if he could escape the world and Kyle’s judgmental tone of voice.

“I mean...surprise?” he tried, voice weak, “I...I was gonna tell you, when you got back, or you know, whenever...” Stan carefully avoided saying anything else, but he knew Kyle. He knew that Kyle was thinking a million thoughts right now, working out every detail, every consequence, every question mark. And Stan hoped with all of his being, that Kyle wasn’t asking the unspoken question of ‘why him? why not me?’, because for that, Stan didn’t have an answer.

 

Kyle wasn’t going to ask. He knew Stan well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to tell him, especially not like this, over the phone. But it was clearly there between them, he heard it in the way Stan’s voice was weak, how he let his thoughts trail off like he knew they weren’t the right thing to say anyway. 

It was crystal clear to Kyle that he had to be the one to bridge the situation, there was no way Stan didn’t feel guilty. Really, it all boiled down to a choice between two options. The first option was to relieve Stan off this guilt for the moment, act like it was fine and like he took it without hard feelings. Make some joke about how Stan had been mad about him not telling him about Tweek and leave things be. The other option was to be frank and honest about things and let him know it didn’t only hurt him that, surprise, Stan was gay, but that Stan hadn’t bothered telling him about it at all. About Craig, the whole thought process.

Kyle knew why, that was besides the point.

“Sure, dude. Look, I just wanted to make sure you’re aware that this is happening, that everyone knows. That Tucker wasn’t playing some stupid ass joke on you.” And with that, Kyle effectively avoided both options and went for the entirely rational approach to this whole mess.

 

“Craig wouldn’t do that.” Stan was defending his newly acquired boyfriend before he could so much as think about it. He bit his tongue a little, trying to keep himself under control. This was Kyle, and if Stan couldn’t handle talking to him about Craig, then he could never speak to anyone about any of this without running the risk of losing his shit.

The reality of what was happening set in with nauseating clarity.

_Everyone_ knew.

It was only a matter of time before that included his parents, his coach, and everyone else in town that cared too much about the highschool football team.

On the one hand, it felt right. Stan didn’t want to hide away anymore. He wanted to be himself, and still make everyone happy and proud. Just because he had intense feelings for a guy didn’t mean he was any less good at football.

But on the other hand, this was gonna have a huge trail of consequences. Maybe someone was going to stop him from playing altogether. Maybe someone would make sure his future would never evolve beyond this town. Stan squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deeply. He wanted to be numb, to drink until he forgot this new dilemma.

“It’s not a joke, Kyle. I really...like him. He makes my heart all fucked up, but like, in a good way.”

 

The confession stung, but to Kyle’s own surprise not as badly as he’d expected it to. He’d left the side-door open and Tweek was lingering near the entrance, polite enough to stay far enough away to leave him his privacy but still be _there_.  Kyle leaned over and reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Okay, Stan. I’m glad you… you’re over Wendy. Like, really. You were bad for each other in a way that I doubt Craig Tucker would be. Like I said, just making sure here you didn’t make a drunkass decision you’re regretting today like that one time you wanted to get her name tattooed on your dick.”

 

“That was totally different,” Stan hissed, but he sounded less more or less embarrassed to be reminded of that particular night. He was very happy that Kyle had stopped him from branding his dick with his ex’s name. It was one of the many, irreplaceable deeds that Kyle deserved medals for. 

“Kyle? I want...I want you to know that it’s not..it’s not because you got a boyfriend. That’s not why this happened, okay?” Stan broke the easy excuse Kyle had pulled up, mostly because he was terrible at keeping anything bottled up when it came to his redhead best friend.

 

That statement broke the flow of their conversation into an easy end entirely. Kyle was quiet for a few seconds, mind racing, heart beating faster. He didn’t want this conversation, not now, not unprepared, not on the damned phone.

“... can we not talk about that right now? Okay? Thanks. I’ll see you soon.” Kyle hung up, then immediately felt bad about it and sent Stan a message, just one sentence.

‘ _ Be safe, use a condom.’ _

 

_ ‘u2’ _

Stan swiped his phone to silent and put it aside, curling into Craig. Any horny notions had left his body as soon as Kyle hung up. There was something heavy and unsolved between them now and it wouldn’t go away so easily.  Was this what happened when friends drifted apart? He didn’t want to. Stan didn’t want to lose Kyle, ever, but what else could he say right now?

Craig’s body had to endure a fierce round of cuddling, which consisted of Stan pushing his face into Craig’s chest.

“You put it on Facebook, huh?”

 

“Yeah. You said I could.”

Craig wrapped his arms around Stan, pulled his barely clothed, but nicely smelling body against him. There were endless amounts of advantages of parents being out on date night, one of them included the possibility of an undisturbed, late night post-mutual-jerk-off shower.

“It’s no different than us holding hands at school, honestly. It would make the rounds this or that way anyway.” He paused, realizing he was kinda apologizing for his actions. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. You really wanna hold hands with me at school? That’s kinda gay,” Stan was happy to drown his doubts in Craig’s warmth, which was an oxymoron if he thought about it too hard. He didn’t. He’d accepted that lots of things about Craig Tucker weren’t true and could only be rightly assessed when in close proximity.

 

Craig breathed out through his nose, not quite a snort, but he didn’t sound pissy either. He pressed a kiss to Stan’s chin, slightly rough with morning stubble, and made use of the superior weight of his body to turn both of them and pin his boyfriend to his own bed effectively. Looking down at Stan, the messed up hair, his button nose and his baby blue eyes, Craig easily felt in the mood for taking both of their minds off of impending consequences.

“You can do better stuff to distract yourself from what you’re thinking than saying homophobic shit, Marsh. Let me show you.” Craig leaned down to bring their lips together, while rocking his hips into Stan’s slightly, just a tiny nudge to make things clear.

 

Oh. Well. That was bound to wake Stan up and distract him successfully from the murky soup of his thoughts. 

Craig was more or less naked and Stan was now painfully aware of it. For a moment, he just stared up at his boyfriend, amazed by the fact that he was okay with calling Craig exactly that. He didn’t really care about what South Park would say. Craig Tucker had, in fact, rubbed off on him, because Stan knew how to make all the bullshit fade away now. The moment was over quickly though as Stan bucked his hips and made Craig fall forward onto him.

“You’re a horndog, holy crap.”

 


	21. Fireflies[Kyle&Tweek]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning you may get Diabetes.

The endless road, familiar 80's rock and the monotone stutter of Tweek’s van slowly worked their magic on Kyle and freed him from his spinning thoughts. 

He wasn’t mad at Stan and he wasn’t disappointed either. Well, not too much. Sure, he’d briefly wondered how it would’ve been if he’d been the one to come out with Stan, be together with him but that had, unsurprisingly, not been a new thought. In a way, perhaps, it was good like this. 

Perhaps this allowed them to finally leave the past behind them and be friends again, on a whole new level or something.  In any case, Kyle was here, a lot of miles between them, and right now, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Stan had someone to care for him and Kyle trusted Tweek’s judgement of Craig who seemed to be an actual decent person once you got through to him, apparently.

Speaking of Tweek, his boyfriend was the most adorable guy ever right now, sleeping on the front seat, his head lolled slightly to the side. Kyle understood that he’d probably smoked weed to keep him calm, situations like earlier were probably hard to deal with for him, but he tried, for Kyle, and that warmed his heart enough to put a constant little smile on his face. It was almost weird, how much he was smiling around him.

He reached over to squeeze his hand.

 

The touch woke Tweek from his slumber, which had been more of a weed-induced hibernation than anything. He startled into a state of awake that had him jump in his seat, half a screech on his lips.  It was a force of habit more than anything else.

“Jesus Christ!” His eyes roamed through the car wildly until he found Kyle, the sight calming him down, “You’re driving.”

 

“Yeah. Shouldn’t I?” Kyle hadn’t actually thought that much about it, he had kind of just decided to go when Tweek fell asleep the second he’d touched the seat.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep if you want, I don’t mind. You drove all the way here, you deserve some rest.” Kyle squeezed his hand reassuringly, but when Tweek didn’t make any move to sleep more, Kyle asked carefully.

  
“Do you think you can hand me some ice tea?” It was warm inside of the car, the sun burning down on the van for ours and the excuse of an air conditioning was doing nothing really. Kyle had shed the proper shirt he’d worn for the exam and just wore the grey undershirt, sleeveless and really just the best thing to wear with this weather.

 

It was nice, sort of, to wake up feeling like a baked potato. Tweek was always wearing black these days, so California was doing a fair job of making him permanently damp with sweat. Not like soaked, but definitely...uncomfortable. Tweek rubbed over his arms, patting the dash until his hands reached the radio and managed to tune it to something he liked. He’d fish his phone out later, when his head wasn’t so murky.

Ice Tea, right? Right. Tweek undid his seatbelt and crawled into the back of the van, prying the mini fridge open. It was nicely stocked, so Kyle had been busy. Tweek extracted a bottle of ice tea and clambered back to the front, pressing the cold bottle against Kyle’s hand on the stick shift.

“How long have I been out? Hours? Days? I’m never smoking that stuff again. McCormick said it would calm me down, but I don’t even remember getting in the car.”

 

Kyle took the bottle of ice tea and pressed it to his face to get some cooling in.

“Thanks.” He glanced at the van’s analogue clock. “Five hours. It’s six. According to my phone there should be a lake somewhere along this road. Thought we should stop there and grab some food, I bought stuff we can roast over a campfire maybe.” He didn’t like camping, but it wasn’t like they’d sleep in a tent (which was what Kyle disliked so much about it in the first place).

The fire and all was fine and even a little bit romantic.

“And yeah, don’t trust Kenny with that kinda stuff. He made me try it at a party and Stan had to take me home and tell my mom some bullshit story why I had to stay over at his place because weed makes me turn into a monkey, apparently.” A very touchy-feely monkey, but that didn’t matter. Kyle grinned and pointed at the map in the passenger door. “Can you grab that and find out how far we’re off?”

 

Tweek made note of monkey-like Kyle. That may be worth exploring at a later point in time, when they ran into inevitable boundaries. They hadn’t encountered any just yet, but hell, better to be prepared.

So maybe stash some weed for a really tense version of Kyle, got it.

The prospect of camping was kind of nice. A lake didn’t have to involve other people or a cramped tent or one of those festivals his parents used to take the van to (to sell ‘coffee’ at). This was just him, and Kyle, and maybe, maybe finally the opportunity he’d been secretly waiting for. All notion of sleepiness fell away from Tweek, his nerves and brain firing on all cylinders, because he could be setting the mood right now and having the best night of Kyle’s life, if he played his cards right. This was it. The ‘magic’ night, as Roddy called it. Then again, he probably shouldn’t put too much stock in Roddy’s words, given as to how his bandmate couldn’t hold a relationship beyond five minutes, but it was more experience than Tweek had.

Speaking of Roddy, he was going to have to tell someone about this lump in his throat called Craig. At some point, definitely not tonight, but that needed addressing. The guilt had not faded and it was becoming a ball and chain at this rate.

Kyle had asked him about some map and Tweek mindlessly folded the thing open until it sprawled across his lap.

“What’s the lake called? What road are we on? You sure we can camp there?”

 

“Goose Lake, right past state border. We’re on Interstate 40 still.” Kyle had it all planned out while Tweek had been happily asleep. Outside, the sun was slowly on its descent towards the horizon, bathing the old van in orange light. When they reached Goose Lake and found a nice spot for the night, the water was glowing with the last few sunrays. Kyle knew how to get a fire going (camping was allowed here, they had made double-sure) and busied himself with that while Tweek rummaged through the back of the van looking for something.

“Can you get the hot dogs out of the fridge?”

 

“Hot dogs?” Tweek didn’t even remember stopping for any kind of groceries. Must have been a long five hours in which Kyle apparently drove them all the way out to have a special picnic. Maybe Tweek wasn’t the only one with high hopes for the evening.

“You really didn’t like that motel, huh?” he muttered as he discovered not only a whole loaf of toast, pickles, hot dogs and some other things that could be fried in and around the fridge. Kyle was so damn thoughtful, it was kind of intimidating. Suddenly, Tweek felt highly underprepared, because the most thoughtful thing he’d packed was lube. And condoms, which he’d bought in the dead of night at a gas station.

“You thought of everything. This is gonna be a feast,” Tweek pulled the side-door open and let the warm air drift into the van. It was just as warm inside, on account of his sluggish AC, so there wasn’t much difference in temperature.

But the air. Tweek sniffed at it. It was kind of a nice change from the highway smell of hot asphalt and suffering rubber. Then, there was the view of the lake. Long grass poked over the sides of the tiny road they’d taken. It was...really nice. Really peaceful. There were trees, blue water, a mellow sunset...this could be his magic night, indeed.

“I think I remember how to build a fire. Had to learn in the scouts.”

 

“Really? You went to the scouts? With Stan and everyone?” Kyle wasn’t sour anymore about the fact he hadn’t been able to share that experience with his best friend, but he had been for a while. Memories of how Tweek had looked when they’d been in fourth grade came to his mind, when Tweek had been their substitute-Kenny, a twitchy, paranoid wraith that was actually a good friend if you got to know him.

“Help me out then, boyscout.” Kyle didn’t need any help, but getting the fire to work together was kinda nice. Bonding over a joint activity and such. He offered Tweek a light-hearted smile.

 

Kyle was so, so much more relaxed than Tweek remembered. When they were in fourth grade, Kyle would fly off the handle about every little thing. Especially if it involved Cartman. Kyle’s furious bitching was still a thing that clung to his reputation now, but Tweek hadn’t really seen it outside of the incident with the mechanic. Was it all because they were in a tentative, new relationship? Or was this just how Kyle normally was, when he was away from his friend group?

Tweek arranged rocks into a circle around a little hole he’d dug for the twigs and paper, which he now set on fire, carefully.

“People are wrong about you, Kyle. I mean, I know that, I knew that, that’s why I wanted to get to know you, but you’re actually really, really nice. I mean, you thought of this whole thing and it’s great, really, look at this view.”

Tweek gestured to the lake that was probably full of snapping turtles, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Stan’s not the sweet one; you are.”

 

Kyle snorted, being reminded of their attempt at being a boyband.

“Good flirting attempt, but actually, I always wanted to be the tough one,” h e laughed and bumped his shoulder against Tweek’s, then said, more softly, “Thanks. I mean, I know people think I’m ninety percent pure rage at all times, but that’s not true. I think I’m ninety percent fed up with South Park.”

Kyle shrugged and waited until the flames licked up onto the twigs before putting a bigger branch into the fire.

Tweek sat down on the rock next to the fire and Kyle followed his example. It didn’t leave much space for the two of them, even though neither of them were particularly broad-shouldered. Not that it mattered, much the opposite, Kyle enjoyed the sensation of his naked shoulder pressed against Tweek’s. He reached out to put his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh, eyes still on the flames.

Then, voice still soft, Kyle said, “The remaining ten percent are all occupied by you.”

 

The hand on his thigh and the flirty comment landed, hook line and sinker, all buried in Tweek’s heart. He stared into the fire, a smile cracking his dry lips.

“Smooth as hell. You’re really good. And nice. I love this feeling,” he put a hand on Kyle’s, then put it on his chest. His heart was doing a great impression of a hummingbird, thumping wildly, as if it wanted to burst out of his chest.

“I’ve never had that before. You make me happy nervous. Butterflies? It feels more like bees.”

 

That had Kyle smile as well. Tweek’s hand on his was warm, unsurprisingly, but not in the same way everything else was warm. Not sun-heated warm, but actual living being warm. There was something pretty enthralling about feeling someone’s heartbeat, someone who told you that it was beating fast just because of you.

“I’m allergic to bee stings.” Kyle murmured, still distracted by the sensation under his fingers. He could feel it so clearly, Tweek’s fluttering heart, except, well, for the shirt in the way of his fingertips.

“Just in case it ever matters, I got epipens with me. Don’t worry, I prepare for things.”  Kyle met his eyes, Tweek’s eyes were a brighter green than his, almost yellow looking depending on the sun.  He reached for Tweek’s hand and placed it on his own chest, right over his own heart.

“Wanna see a trick?” There was no answer necessary, Kyle didn’t wait for it anyway. Holding Tweek’s hand in place he leaned in to bring their lips together, the kiss something that would probably take a long time until it wouldn’t have his heartbeat go racing.

  
  


It took Tweek far too long to understand what the ‘trick’ was that Kyle wanted to show him. The racing heartbeat was as sweet as a love song to him. Oh, and their kissing wasn’t bad either. 

Out here, it was just the two of them. Usually, Tweek hated camping and the forest, but the lakeside was so quiet and still, he couldn’t think any bad thoughts or predict some disaster. Also, Kyle had soft lips, even if they were on the thin side. He made up for it by having the cute habit of smiling when kissing. Tweek wanted to devour him whole for it.

But speaking of devouring, his stomach rumbled and he pulled back, remembering those hot dogs.

“I like your trick. Wanna see how many hot dogs I can fit in my mouth?”

 

Kyle stared at him with disbelief, then actually had to laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah, show me how many hot dogs you can fit in your mouth. Please.” He snorted, bumping his shoulder playfully into Tweek’s while reaching for the actual hot dogs they still had to grill.

 

Kyle’s lips were still tingling from the kiss and, yeah, maybe he hadn’t been quite honest with himself and Tweek, because next to the ninety percent fed up and the ten percent into Tweek there was also at least thirty percent of latent teenage horniness that let his brain suggest great things to him like ‘rid Tweek off his shirt’ or ‘go sit on his lap and find out what happens if you grind your hips’.

“Did you bring the bread and pickles?”

 

Oh, Tweek could manage hot dogs and pickles, yes. 

Their little picnic turned out to be quite romantic (if you ignored the small mosquito plague and Tweek’s ill-advised attempt to brave the shallow water at the shore, which turned out to be warm and contained exactly one tortoise). By the time the sunset had stopped illuminating the quiet lake, Tweek managed to pull out the little canvas roof of the van and plugged in the fairy lights he’d draped along the walls like a manic teenage girl.

It made for soft lighting when combined with the embers of their fire and Tweek felt his soul mellowed out by it, more than the smoke earlier today ever managed to make him feel. He wrapped the blanket around Kyle as they sat on the side of the van, watching the first stars emerge in the sky.

“Craig used to show me constellations all the time,” Tweek muttered, not for the sake of a conversation, but to fill the quiet. He pulled his guitar closer, strumming it absent-mindedly.

 

“You miss that?” Kyle asked, feeling mellow as well and not particularly bothered by the way Tweek casually mentioned Craig now and then. He understood that the guy had had a big impact on his boyfriend’s life, kind of like Stan did with Kyle, just more, well, gay.

“I have no idea about constellations. But I can explain to you what makes these fireflies glow.” They were sitting close, as close as Tweek’s guitar allowed.

 

 

“Tell me about the fireflies, Kyle,” Tweek muttered, watching the little specks of light rise up out of the grass. This was just about as picture-perfect a moment as could be, and for once, Tweek didn’t feel anxious about anything. No one was asking or expecting anything of him, Kyle was just right here with him, in the moment, with no demands more than explaining why firefly butts glowed.

 

“It’s an enzyme group called Luciferases. After the morning star. They catalyse a chemical reaction of oxygen and Luciferines which makes the end product glow. People say watching fireflies is magical but all I can think about is biochemistry.” He reached for his can of soda to take a sip.

The fireflies did look amazing though even though the reason for their glowing wasn’t magic. Unfortunate, since Kyle liked the idea of magic. There was a reason he’d made up his elven king character after all.

 

More and more rose up, little spots of light in the air around them, like living little stars.

“Imagine our butts glowed to attract partners. That’d be hilarious.”

 

“Shh, don’t ruin the magic,” Tweek strummed his guitar a little more. There was a very fitting song to play, and he didn’t hesitate to be that cheesy. This worked in every romance movie he’d ever seen. Why shouldn’t it work for him and Kyle, right now?

Besides, he couldn’t think of a more perfect setting to play Fireflies than sitting in his van, looking out at a lake and dancing specks of light. They might be nothing but biochemistry, but they were magic tonight.

“I don’t have a glowing butt, but I can write you a song, if you want.”

 

The offer effectively silenced Kyle into awestruck surprise. A song? For him? Like the good-looking, socially competent people in the movies? Those kinda people that Kyle never thought included him?  Alright, maybe he was wrong and you didn’t have to be like that to find someone that wanted to write a song for you.

Kyle found his voice again.

“I’d like that.” He brought out, sounding a little hoarse there, but oh so flattered, “Yeah. I’d really like and want that. Can’t offer you much in return though, I’m not creative. Can’t even dance.”

 

“You don’t have to give me something in return, I like you, remember?” Tweek continued his song, though it was just the tune without the lyrics. His singing was kind of limited to power metal and ballads, not soft indie rock out in nature.  But it felt nice to fill the air with sound anyway.

“I just...I feel really good with you, right now. Like, anything could happen, and I probably wouldn’t die of a heart attack, you know?”

 

“Yeah. I think I know what you mean. It’s kinda the same for me, like… this is just very real and unreal at the same time.”  That sounded odd to his own ears, but it somehow made sense. Kyle’s gaze returned from the fireflies and instead, he watched Tweek’s profile, his eyes still on nature’s nightly show in front of them.  It wandered down and Kyle for once didn’t feel ashamed of looking at his boyfriend. Tweek’s hands were busy with the guitar still. Kyle’s eyes followed the nimble movements of his fingers, the way he knew exactly how to touch the strings to draw sounds out of the instrument.

He couldn’t really help wondering if Tweek’s fingers were as adept on a human body as they were on these strings.  _ His  _ human body, to be precise. Kyle swallowed, throat dry, and drew his gaze away.  Maybe he could ask Tweek about it though. His experience as it were, because Kyle had none and needed to learn.  Then again, he couldn’t just ruin the situation by suddenly deciding they had to talk about sex.

“Can I ask you something about you and Craig?”

 

“Sure.” Tweek didn’t mind talking about Craig. It wasn’t a raw wound for him, just a finished chapter of his life. He was more than part of the town’s token gay couple, but he also held no resentment of his time as such. It had been...good for him. Good for his confidence. Craig had played an important part in Tweek finding his own way in life. Now, he just had to go and use that way he’d managed to find for himself.

The only thing he regretted was how he’d hurt Craig, but Kyle didn’t need to know about that.

“Fire away.”

 

“Probably a dumb question, but why did you say earlier that you haven’t felt like that before? Didn’t you do stuff like this with him?” Kyle felt a bit awkward, but his curiosity had won the battle and Tweek had given him permission to ask, anyway. It just seemed weird to him that Tweek acted like this was his first romantic getaway while everyone thought he and Craig had done it all.

 

“Stuff like this?” Tweek looked around at the van, the fireflies, the guitar and Kyle. No, he could definitely say that he had never done something this romantic with Craig. There were a few contenders to the title, but nothing quite like this. And there was the whole matter of Tweek’s emotions, which were a rollercoaster on their own.

“No. Not...not like this. It was different with Craig. He was...I mean, we did things, couple things, but we did them because, you know, we had each other anyway, might as well try, you know? It was never really because we wanted to be together. I just...trusted him, and he was comfortable with me.”

 

That was surprising for Kyle to hear, but Tweek didn’t sound like he was particularly upset about it. It just sounded like he stated how things had been and that was that.

“As in, you both just rolled with it? You were together because you’ve always been together kinda thing?” Then why had Craig been moping around? Except if… this was how Tweek saw things and Craig’s point of view differed. Oh man. Kyle reached for Tweek’s hand as he had stopped playing and intertwined their fingers.

“As shitty as it sounds, I’m kinda glad, you know? I thought you’d seen and done it all, kinda like you’re just indulging me cause you like me. It’s good to hear that there’s some firsts left for you, too.”

 

“Lots of them,” Tweek let Kyle have his hand for a minute. He was a very touchy-feely kind of guy, as Tweek was figuring out along the way, but that was okay. He liked being surprised by Kyle Broflovski, whom he had, once upon a time, passed off as an angry jewish kid with too many issues to confront.

"I told you why I broke up with him, right?” Because ultimately, he’d been bored. Tweek had been bored with Craig, and wanted to force them both to move on. And technically, they both had, because Craig had a new boyfriend too, and it was Stan fucking Marsh. Talk about an upgrade.

 

“No.” Kyle said, “You didn’t tell me. But you don’t have to, if you don’t wanna. Just maybe tell me if he could be bad for Stan because then I might have to go to war once I’m back home.” At Tweek’s incredulous expression, Kyle grinned and shrugged. It was only half of a joke, Stan was still under his protection, awkward mood between them or not. He doubted though that that was the reason. Not with the way Craig had seemed thoroughly heartbroken, like a loving puppy left in the rain. He didn’t tell that to Tweek, he probably had his reasons.

 

“Stan’s not in any danger. Craig is very careful and a big fan of lube. Trust me, he is into prep.” Tweek may have misunderstood the question completely, but he was happy to at least give credit where credit was due. Craig was a caring lover and a studious boyfriend. He even looked everything up before he and Tweek ever tried. It was a rare trait in a teenage boy and Craig should be advertised because of it.

 

That wasn’t what Kyle had been asking, but it was good to know anyway. So good that his brain spun him a few vivid fantasies of one Craig Tucker’s fingers in someone’s ass, someone that interchangingly had Tweek’s and Stan’s face. Kyle snorted and raised his hands.

“Okay, I guess he can’t be that bad then, right? I thought more in the direction of, dunno, using you or degrading you. That’s probably bullshit, I’m aware, but he seems like quite the asshole from outside, so I wanna be sure.” Because Stan was easy to be abused and Kyle wanted to know if he was good or if Craig had to get the shovel talk of the century.

 

“Degrading? Oh, you, you didn’t mean that at all,” Tweek had to backpedal, a little embarrassed by his ready confession. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself here. Most people didn’t know Craig Tucker the way he did. Certainly not so intimately well as he did. Maybe he should do a better job at describing his ex to the best friend of his new flame.

“Craig was always a great boyfriend, Kyle. He doesn’t show it much, but he cares a lot. He helped me so much, and I was a dick and dumped him. I...I gotta do something about that when we get home, but right now, you don’t have to worry about Stan.”

 

Kyle exhaled breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Okay. Stan was fine, he wasn’t making a mistake, at least not with his choice of new acquaintance, the coming out and all Kyle put in a bracket of its own to solve later.

“Okay. Thanks for sharing. It’s just that Stan isn’t so good with choosing healthily and I was worried. But if he’s actually not a dick once he likes you, that’s good.” With a little sigh Kyle let himself fall backwards, onto the old mattress in the back of the van and the pillows on top of it. The ceiling of the van was covered in plenty of fairy lights and while it was all makeshift and kind of messy, it was perfectly romantic.

“Did you put up the fairy lights or was that Roddy’s idea as well?” Roddy’s idea, like the one-litre-bottle-lube-dispenser hidden next to the fridge. Kyle wasn’t gonna mention that, maybe Tweek had no idea either.

 

“Well we needed a light,” Tweek was happy for the change in topic. He had a feeling that if Kyle continued on with the whole ‘Stan and Craig’ topic, this evening would derail from any hopeful plans he’d made.

“Do you think it’s tacky? It’s pretty tacky.”

Tweek dismissed his guitar and shuffled himself into a position where he too could fall back onto the mattress and not on top of Kyle (no matter how convenient that might be).

 

Kyle let his eyes wander over the many lights. “No, don’t think so. At least not right now. Looks a bit tacky by day, but it’s whatever. If it wasn’t for that it wouldn’t look good now.

Tweek’s shoulder was back against his own. This time, Kyle successfully resisted the urge to grab and hold his hand. He couldn’t be too touchy all the time, he had to show some cool, right?

 

“Powered by the battery for the fridge, I suppose? That’s really clever, by the way. Separate battery that gets charged by the engine anyway. The guy must be some sort of MacGyver.” He was aware he was just talking for the point of talking, at the same time it was glaringly obvious that they’d now done literally everything teenagers did on a camping trip like this, except have sex. Kyle had some idea how to proceed with this, but the longer he thought about it, the more he questioned his own initial idea of just leaning over Tweek and kissing him.

What if that was too forward, what if it made Tweek feel like Kyle wanted him to be the girl? He didn’t by the way, very acutely aware of the fact that both of them were, in fact, guys.

Tweek knew how this worked, right?

Kyle turned his head to the side to look at him. Tweek didn’t work like that though, the same way Kyle didn’t. Tweek worked with precaution and preparation and most of all, clarification up front.

“Hey Tweek.” Kyle said quietly, surprised about how calm his voice sounded. When his boyfriend looked at him, attentive, he managed to continue, “I’m pretty sure this is where we’re supposed to make out and have sex. Just letting you know I’m not, you know, against that or anything.”

 

If Tweek ever needed evidence that Kyle was inexperienced as hell, this was it right here. He was so casual about it, which was both entertaining and a little flummoxing. So, was this an invitation? Or was Kyle mentioning it so it wouldn’t come up later to make things awkward?

Tweek decided that he could ask for details. He turned on his side, watching Kyle’s face. It looked beautiful to him, but he also had a hummingbird heart when it came to Kyle, so he was kind of biased.

“Do you want to, though? With me?”

 

Kyle congratulated himself for having taken his own foot with both hands and planted it firmly in dog shit, because that’s what this situation felt like. He was embarrassed and had no idea what to answer. If he said yes he probably sounded too easy. If he said no, he’d be lying and probably also die a virgin. And the more time passed between question and answer, the more embarrassing Kyle got.

“I.. uh, I’m…” Kyle realized he sounded like an absolute idiot and swallowed, silencing himself for a moment. Tweek’s eyes were focused on him and the attention made him feel hot and cold in steady intervals.

Maybe he could share his dilemma with his boyfriend instead.

“If, in theory, I say yes, would you think I’m too easy?”

 

“Why would I think that?” Tweek was genuinely confused, but he was starting to understand what was happening. Kyle was even more nervous than him, and that was devastatingly cute.

“Hey, Kyle, look at me,” he whispered, leaning closer until his cheek rested right on Kyle’s shoulder. Both of their lanky bodies were awkwardly shuffled together on the mattress, but somehow, it was comfortable. When Kyle obeyed his request, Tweek pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You’re really cute and I would definitely like to sleep with you.”

 

The confession combined with the close proximity of their bodies had Kyle’s body temperature rise quickly.

Tweek was being calm and collected and that helped him stay that way as well. They were just making sure, right? And Tweek wouldn’t think he was easy. Besides, he’d already started, so Kyle might as well.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, with you! Not with myself, oh man.” Kyle laughed, embarrassed enough for his nose to turn ever so slightly red.

 

Kyle needed to let go, but it was good that he was this relaxed already. Tweek wouldn’t know what to do with a nervous bundle. It didn’t take much physical effort for him to move enough to roll onto Kyle, but it did demand balls of steel, given as to how wrong this could go. Seduction was not Tweek’s strong suit, after all.

“You wanna give it a try, right now?”

If Kyle didn’t like it, they could always laugh it off and you know, pretend this was all too cheesy to really put them in the mood.

 

Tweek’s weight on him felt surprisingly good. To be fair, Kyle had always liked wrestling around (with Stan, who pinned him with ease ever since he’d started playing football in earnest), but with his best friend, he had been careful to keep his interest in check, aware that the guy on top of him was not on the same page. This though, this was different. The question rang in Kyle’s ears, he didn’t know what to say, so he just wrapped his arms around Tweek’s midsection and held onto him.

“Yeah.” Kyle finally brought out, nodding as he found some reassurance in the fact that Tweek didn’t look all that confident himself. It was kind of awkward, really, but also pretty exciting. “I just haven’t… done it, like ever. You have, right?”  
  


“Didn’t we just cover that?” Maybe Tweek needed to spring into action, because Kyle was babbling, at best. It felt a little weird to be the assertive one, but Tweek was pretty sure he knew what to do. He would just do what he’d like done to him, and Kyle would stop asking questions.

So, instead of waiting for an answer, Tweek moved his hands over Kyle’s wrists, planted his legs on either side of the pinned redhead and leaned down to kiss Kyle convincingly. It wasn’t difficult for him to get into the mood, but to do all of this without letting his nerves get the better of him? It was a lifetime achievement, more or less, and Tweek could not help but feel a little proudly smug that he was managing it.

 

Kyle was pretty sure that no, they hadn’t talked about it in detail, but the fact faded away rapidly as Tweek did something Kyle had wanted him to do and not expected him to do at the same time. The kiss felt searing, different than the ones they’d shared before, and it did wonders in melting Kyle’s initial hesitation away. Tweek wanted this, maybe even more than Kyle did, probably because he knew what to expect.  Because he couldn’t do much more than that with his wrists pinned like this, Kyle returned the kiss eagerly, managed to catch Tweek’s lip with his own and suck it lightly into his mouth. When Tweek pulled back and Kyle couldn’t follow anymore, due to being pinned, he caught his boyfriend grinning ever so slightly about his triumph. Kyle couldn’t just let that happen and forced one of his arms out of the hold.

Two seconds later (thanks to wrestling practise with Stan), Kyle had him on his back, ass firmly planted on Tweek’s hips, his (rather thin) wrists in his own grasp.  Kyle leaned over him, smirk stretching his lips.

“I’m not that easy.”

The kiss that followed was pretty vivacious, a living symbol for Kyle’s enthusiasm.

 

“Maybe I am.” This was exactly the kind of mood that would propel this evening from comfortable and relaxed to exciting, and Tweek was pretty proud of himself for having set it off. Kyle seemed more than willing, now that he had some leverage on top of Tweek. He was a little heavier, but Tweek was lean and crafty and he fought dirty when it came right down to it.

Being pinned by his boyfriend, however, was definitely not a situation he wanted to get out of.

“You wanna see how easy?”

 

Tweek turned out to be pretty cheeky and at least in Kyle’s world, that was seducing him quite well so far.  For a moment, he contemplated trying to will himself not to be so quickly aroused by the fact that what would follow was probably something sexual, but then he dismissed the notion. It was okay. They’d both agreed on this to happen and Kyle was pretty sure Tweek had seen his fair share of boners in his life, apart from his own.

Kyle reinforced the grip on Tweek’s hands, then leaned his head down to look at him from close up, their lips a mere half inch apart.

“Definitely. Show me.”

 

“You need to sit back, honey,” Tweek whispered, tugging his wrists out of Kyle’s grasp so he could run two curious hands under Kyle’s clothes. Since it was still so warm, there was relatively little cloth to hinder his way. Kyle felt pretty soft and warm, it made Tweek’s body tingle just to brush his fingers over Kyle’s hips and stomach.

“Have you had a blowjob?” Tweek whispered, leaning to Kyle’s ear and pressing a sweet, fleeting kiss to the lobe.

 

“Haven’t had one, nope. Yet.” Kyle had been pretty sure that whole talk about blood leaving your brain to go pool in your dick was bullshit. You’d be dead if that happened. And yet, exactly that felt like it was happening to him right now, he couldn’t think one coherent thought and instead just focus on how uncomfortably tight his pants were right now. How he hadn’t had a blowjob but how much he wanted it right now.

He did sit back, like Tweek said, watched him for a moment, enjoyed the sensation of his hands running over his skin before Kyle gathered his courage and pulled the flimsy grey shirt he’d been wearing over his head. Now, Kyle wasn’t a football demigod like Craig or Stan, but he did play basketball and felt rather okay with how he looked, size-wise.

It was oddly exciting to watch Tweek look at him like this, even if there was no way his boyfriend could not notice the rather obvious bulge in his crotch area.

 

Tweek was above staring, but not above licking his lips. Kyle wasn’t as twig-like as his baggy clothing suggested, but he also wasn’t a meathead football player. He was somewhere in between, and his body, where revealed, his skin even bore freckles. Tweek liked them, they were like sprinkles on a cupcake. Cute as fuck. 

And yeah, he saw the bulge from a very eager dick that had the misfortune of never having known a mouth or tongue or lips. That was sad enough for Tweek to feel a twinge of jealous anger. Why had no one noticed how pretty Kyle was? And how deserving of a blowjob? No matter. He was here now.

“Can I take your pants off?” he muttered as he leaned forward to make acquaintance with Kyle’s cute nipples.

 

“Yeah. If you take off your shirt at least.” Kyle wasn’t aware of his own freckles, the Californian sun made them show up without his knowledge and it was not like the van had an inbuilt full-body mirror for him to preen in front of. But he had better things to do than to worry about his freckles. Tweek’s lips had enclosed around his nipple and Kyle closed his eyes, hands coming up to rest on Tweek’s shoulder but then wandered into his hair, making messy blond hair even messier.

Tweek sucked on him, lightly, and that was already enough to have pleasure erupt in his spine and shoot down south and Kyle couldn’t help the little ‘ah’ escaping him at the sensation.  In this position, Tweek’s belly was pressed against his crotch, but Kyle was beyond being ashamed of the current state of his dick right now. His fingers ran over the nape of Tweek’s neck and further down his spine until he couldn’t reach anymore, then back up again.

Meanwhile, Tweek’s fingers were busy with his fly, expertly ridding him off some of the pressure.

 

Tweek wasn’t as smooth an operator as he wanted to be, but there was progress to be made in terms of undressing Kyle on his own. Which encompassed dealing with his belt, pushing him gently to lay back and pulling on his pants, which came down in awkward increments and not in one, smooth motion like when Craig used to handle Tweek’s clothes.  God, maybe he needed to get some tips.

Eventually, some of Kyle’s privates peeked out, though, and things got all that much more exciting. Kyle was red up top, from hair to ears to cheeks, and he was red below, all eager and straining for Tweek’s touch. Or at least, that’s how he was interpreting the hard dick that awaited him.

“Hey, you’re pretty big. I like that,” Tweek praised, not sure if he was supposed to call Kyle’s dick pretty or badass or something. Talking during sex things was also not one of his strengths.  He leaned in and gave the tip a kiss. It was kind of damp already, which meant Kyle was extremely ready to go. Tweek better not mess around.

“Relax, honey,” he whispered before parting his lips on Kyle’s dick and taking him into his mouth.

 

Originally, Kyle had wanted to say something intelligent about how Tweek said his dick was ‘pretty big’, but the words got stuck in his mouth when his boyfriend all but kissed his dick.  The touch sent liquid fire into his body and it had his hips twitch briefly.

He opened his mouth, attempting to say something now but then his eyes got stuck on Tweek’s parting lips and the way he just put Kyle’s dick into his mouth like it was no big deal at all. Instead of saying something, Kyle just moaned at him, completely caught off-guard by the feeling of getting his first blowjob. There was something truly amazing that did not compare to jerking off, not at all. Tweek’s mouth was hot and wet and perfect around his dick. Kyle clawed his hands into the mattress, elbows still supporting his weight. He couldn’t stop staring at Tweek who really knew how to handle him and well, maybe Kyle had to go say thank you to one Craig Tucker later on because this was freaking amazing.

“H-holy shit, that feels g-good!” Kyle brought out, focusing as well as he could on not bucking his hips (he really didn’t wanna ruin anything here).

 

He could have bucked and fucked Tweek’s mouth, really, but Tweek appreciated that Kyle held still for him. It let Tweek experiment with what he was doing, with rubbing his tongue against Kyle’s dick in different ways, sucking hard and slow, sucking hard and fast, gently bobbing his mouth up and down the shaft. It was kind of fun, especially once he rolled his eyes up to watch Kyle. Who was very red and very wide-eyed, holding on to the brink of an orgasm. It was cute that he didn’t just spill himself into Tweek’s mouth, but making Kyle lose control was kind of the point here. Tweek snuck a hand down to Kyle’s balls, squeezing them very, very gently between his fingers. The other hand supported the shaft he was working in and out of his mouth.

 

Kyle had been holding on ever since Tweek put his dick in his wonderful mouth. He’d tried his best, had thought about unsexy things, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, clawed his hands more into the sheets.  But all of that didn’t help him against his boyfriend’s expertise with all of this. Tweek sucked dick like a champion and Kyle could only withhold the inevitable this long.  When Tweek’s hands decided just dick wasn’t enough and went for his balls while at the same time dragging that unholy tongue piercing over his dick, Kyle gave a garbled little noise that was neither moan nor a coherent word before his body went rigid.  A hissed curse on his lips, he spilled himself in his boyfriend’s mouth, pleasure having grabbed him and dragged him away from anything sane to say or do right now.

Once he was over his high, Kyle let himself fall back, an arm covering his beet-red face.

“I’m so sorry.” He brought out, breathless. Great, he’d held on for what? A minute max? Kyle pulled the arm away to look at Tweek with apology written in his face, “You need a tissue or something? Fuck, dude, I’m sorry.”

 

Tweek raised his head, mischief sparkling in his sea-green eyes as he very visibly showed Kyle how he swallowed, slow and deliberate. He smacked his lips, licking over them as if he’d had a taste of something he liked. Technically, he had.

“What are you sorry for? Coming? That’s okay, I wanted you to. That’s the technique for getting a guy to fuck your throat, you know?” When Kyle looked shocked at his words, Tweek laughed and sat back, running a hand through the bird’s nest he called hair.

“Don’t look so shocked, honey, it’s just dirty talk. I can stop if you like, but it turns some guys on like hell.”

 

“I can tell.” Kyle said dryly, because Tweek just saying that gave him a plethora of new fantasy-pictures to jerk off over, “Works, yep. Definitely.”   
He looked at Tweek and snorted, shaking his head. “You just… you’re amazing.”  Kyle leaned forward and enclosed Tweek in his arms, squeezing him tightly. He felt light-headed and happy.

“That was so good.”

Tweek got squeezed a bit more, then Kyle pulled his legs closer to himself. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or anything, no, not after having just come in the guy’s mouth after only forty seconds. But Tweek was still fully dressed and Kyle was eager to return the favour at least in some form. How, he wasn’t sure yet, but Tweek sat in a good position for Kyle to move forward and straddle him again, naked as he was. He put his hands on Tweek’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss him, tongue involvement and all.

When he pulled back, he mimicked Tweek’s earlier lip-smacking and stated, matter-of-factly, but no little amount of amusement sparkling in his eyes, 

Kyle was climbing into his lap. Tweek’s mind was working hard at figuring out why that was so good, and the answer pleased him enormously. Kyle’s shapely ass (the curve of it was unbelievable for a skinny jewish boy) was in his lap and Tweek was definitely hard because of it.  Also the fact that Kyle loved the blowjob so much helped.

Tweek smiled as his hands found that perfect ass and followed the flawless curve of those cheeks. It was like touching a piece of art, usually hidden away behind a thick layer of plexiglass. Except this was his boyfriend’s butt and he was allowed to mash it in his grip as much as he wanted to.

Which is exactly what he did.

“Do you know how long I’ve been staring at your butt, Kyle?”

 

Kyle had received quite a few comments about his ass in his time, going back as far as third grade (courtesy of Bebe).  But he’d never had his butt outright grabbed and squeezed, like Tweek was doing right now. It was surprisingly good, especially when he took in that pleased expression on his boyfriend’s face. Kyle managed to grin even if it was a bit weird to have his ass fondled like this, but seeing Tweek enjoying himself over it was good.

“No. How long? Tell me.”

 

“Ever since I understood how good it can feel with your ass,” Tweek’s answer wasn’t exactly like the sweet and filthy words he’d been capable of spilling earlier, but he was a little distracted by grabbing and massaging Kyle’s cheeks in his hands. He had to be forgiven for not being such a great talker when all he could think about was that he might finally get to fuck a boy. A boy he really, really liked.

“And, Kyle, I just...I wanna be fair, I know you haven’t done it before, but could you let me fuck you? Or make love to you! Ho-However you want it, I’ll do it. It’s just, I wanna try, and you’re perfect, and...well, I’m really hard. For you.”

 

If Kyle had been in any other mood, he’d probably have thought twice about it. He’d read, of course, what was important to consider when you were supposed to take dick up the ass, but this was technically his first time.

Right now though, Tweek sounded like he really meant what he said, like Kyle saying yes would make not just his day but his whole month, if not year. His body was still pleasantly buzzing with the aftermath of his recent orgasm and that didn’t help in forcing Kyle into making a rational decision. Instead, he let himself be dragged along with Tweek’s excitement (expressed by a very obvious hard bulge pressed into his thigh) and nodded.

“Okay.” Before Tweek could open his mouth and say something, Kyle quickly continued, “Before you ask, I’m sure. I wanna try this anyway, so why not now? And, I mean, you probably know how this works so, you should, yeah. Did you know Roddy installed a one-liter-pump-bottle of lube next to the fridge? No? Well, we got lube for days.” Kyle tried to be as cool about this as possible and moved his hands to tug Tweek’s shirt over his head. Finally.

 

Kyle spent too much of his time talking, Tweek decided. What they were trying to accomplish now, together, was not something that was based on commentary or analysis, and his mouth was currently free, so why not place it on Kyle’s once they were both equally shirtless?

It was a good kiss, nothing shy, but nothing wild, just a steady touch that kept them both together and guaranteed that the two of them would not get cold feet. Or cold anything, because Kyle’s fingers were already fiddling with the metal studs in Tweek’s nipples. Tweek cursed and hissed and moaned into the kiss, because damn it, those were sensitive.

 

If anyone had asked him why exactly he was so much into Tweek’s damned piercings (especially those in his nipples, holy fuck), Kyle wouldn’t have a coherent answer, he’d probably just get embarrassingly hard thinking about the metal in sensitive skin. It wasn’t just that touching them was great, no, Tweek’s reactions were what really made it hot enough for him to get hard yet again. With Tweek in a similar state of arousal now, Kyle felt a little more daring than before and they’d already decided on what to do next anyway, so he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him back with him until Tweek was on top of him, their naked chests pressed together.

Kyle ran his hands through messy blond hair. Tweek looked ever so slightly nervous, exactly like Kyle felt. He wondered if Tweek had done this before, but then again, he’d probably done everything with Craig anyway, right?

 

Craig was very far from Tweek’s mind, right now. Kyle was occupying all of it, and that was a pretty nice state of being. From their positions and you know, their conversation, he could rest assured that this was gonna go the way he imagined. Sort of.

Kyle was already mostly, definitely naked. It was kind of easy to sit up and shimmy back until he could part Kyle’s knees and find a more comfortable position where Kyle’s legs layed over Tweek’s thighs. He had the full view, from this angle, and Kyle looked like some kind of centerfold to him. Beautiful, flushed, entirely eager to do this with him.

“You look great,” he whispered, transfixed by his own hands, sliding over the balls he’d fondled before, and then behind them. The skin felt a little bumpy, which was different to his own, but by no means bad. Kyle twitched and jerked whenever Tweek got too close, but that was just nerves, probably.

“Do you...is it weird? I promise, it feels good,”

 

“No. I mean, kinda.” Kyle corrected himself, “But I really wanna do this, that’s not it. Just… just don’t worry about the scars, okay?”   
When Tweek sent him a questioning look, Kyle squirmed ever so slightly. It was better to tell him now and then not worry about Tweek finding something about his ass weird the entire time, he told himself.

“Had stress-induced hemorrhoids when I was younger. It’s, uhm, okay now. Just in case you were wondering.” 

To distract from the situation, Kyle reached to the side where he found his backpack. After a few seconds of fumbling, he produced a small bottle of cherry-scented lube and handed it to Tweek.

“Go on, really. I’ll tell you if it’s too weird, okay?”

 

Tweek didn’t really require the explanation in the slightest. He wouldn’t even have known about the scars if Kyle didn’t point it out. He shrugged off this new information, since it didn’t come hand in hand with any warnings. The fact that Kyle pressed a bottle of lube into his hand was also very distracting. The strong scent of artificial cherry permeated the air when Tweek popped the cap and poured some lube out onto his fingers. He moved them together, trying to warm it a little. No one wanted cold fingers in their butt.

He smiled reassuringly at Kyle.

“Do you like cherry flavor, or something?”

 

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to bring the cherry lube. Back when he’d bought it, about a year ago, things had been different, Kyle had thought that maybe, one day, he’d get with a specific guy that had a specific liking for artificial cherry-everything. Right now, the lube was just lube, but Kyle couldn’t explain everything about it to make Tweek understand, so he decided to try and lie. Lying wasn’t his forte and he did feel bad about it, but this was a white lie, because it didn’t matter.

“It’s okay, not like my favourite or anything. It was kinda just the only thing they had back when I bought it. Thought scented lube was great or something, it’s quite old.” He added a little smile and Tweek seemed to believe the story.

Tweek’s fingers weren’t cold on him, but Kyle twitched involuntarily nonetheless because of the slippery feeling not introduced by his own fingers. Kyle was quite sure he’d be able to do this. He’d tried on himself countless of times, but then again, his own fingers were different from someone else’s and real dicks different from fake ones.

He watched Tweek with curiosity.

 

“Really? Okay, then I won’t keep you waiting.”

Again, Kyle was talking so much that it was almost becoming a ramble, which just proved that Tweek wasn’t the only one here who was entirely too nervous. Kyle was too, and the two of them would just have to awkwardly suffer through until it became fun. Tweek’s fingers were no longer dancing around at the edges like a bad wallflower metaphor. He slid them in very gently, though, but found Kyle very receptive to the ministration. Very, very receptive, because Kyle relaxed around him enough for his finger not to be squeezed at all.

“Oh shit,” Tweek muttered, transfixed by the view of his fingers dipping into Kyle with ease. If things went this quick, his dick wouldn’t be hurting for long.

 

Kyle tried his best to be accepting of the intrusion, or at least that was what he’d told himself. Turned out, he didn’t actually have to try that hard because it felt good to have Tweek finally inside of him in some form, like he’d been ready for this since forever. When he added a second one, Kyle sighed and closed his eyes. Tweek was very gentle with him, moving his fingers slowly, making sure he was okay. Kyle appreciated it thoroughly, it made any nervous notion fade away.

He ended up with three of Tweek’s fingers inside of him rather quickly and without much of an issue. Seemed like practise did the trick. Somewhere between the second and third finger and Tweek brushing past something inside of him that had him moan and squirm for a moment, his arm had come up to cover his eyes again. Okay, maybe he was a bit ashamed of things, but it also helped in actually dealing with the whole situation. He was going to have sex, for the first time, goddamnit!

“Is it weird that I just really want you inside of me right now? Tweek?” Kyle felt his cheeks heat up at his own comment, but it was the truth. He felt like he was ready for the main course, so to say.

 

“Nope, not at all, that’s actually exactly what you’re supposed to want. And say.” Tweek was kind of amused but also definitely turned on. It was pretty easy to feel that way around Kyle.  He didn’t remember ever feeling this much in charge of things with Craig, so this was all new. It all belonged to Kyle and him.

“You wanna do it like this? Or on your front? I mean, I wanna see you, but...” sometimes, it was just embarrassing to have someone stare at your sex face. Tweek could not empathise with Kyle more if he was in his position. 

 

Now that he had the option, Kyle felt like he had too much choice in this. He couldn’t decide, there was the definite advantage that he really didn’t have to care about what his face looked like, but on the other hand he was curious what faces Tweek was going to pull because of him.  Kyle removed his arm from his face.

“Like this.” He said, decisively, “I mean it’s not embarrassing anymore once we’ve seen it all, right? Right.”

 

“Right. Don’t worry, I’ll probably look really dumb in a minute. You can laugh if I pull a face.” Tweek was powering through this with confidence so far. He was kind of proud of himself for handling this (without twitching or spazzing much at all, thanks for noticing). But there was more to handle about this situation than clarifying the position. Tweek was pretty sure he couldn’t take anymore waiting anymore. Kyle was nice and loose around his fingers and his voice was warmed up and pretty to boot. Tweek fumbled with the condom, trying to be discreet and not ruin the mood. Holding his dick in hand and sitting between Kyle’s legs was kind of surreal.

Stopping off for more questions, however, was super unsexy and Tweek was trying here. He brought himself to rest against Kyle’s hole, though he did pause for just a squirt of lube to rub over the head of his dick.

His heart was hammering thunderously in his chest.

“R-ready?”

 

Kyle nodded, watching Tweek closely. He canted his hips up just a tiny bit to allow for a better angle. Tweek’s skin was warm against his, Kyle wasn’t uncomfortable like this, not even when his boyfriend finally pushed into him.

Sure, it was a remarkable intrusion, but not bigger than the toy he’d used for practise. Nevertheless though, it was entirely different to know that there was a guy attached to this dick. Kyle’s eyes had closed without him thinking about it, his teeth had caught his lower lip and once he was aware of it, he was pretty sure he looked like he was concentrating really hard. He was, or had been, because once Tweek was all inside of him and gingerly put his hands on his hips, Kyle opened his eyes.  He wanted to see Tweek, wanted some sort of indicator how this felt for his boyfriend. For him, physically, it felt full and emotionally, well, this was it, this was the sex he’d been waiting for, a variant of it anyway. Kyle managed to smile, his voice a bit strained when he spoke.

“You feel good.”

 

“So do you, thanks,” Tweek’s voice was strained, but that was mostly thanks to his dick being inside of someone, who was very hot and tight. It was a little more surreal than before, but grounding at the same time. Tweek shuddered, unsure as to how to proceed. His heart made his blood pound through his head and anxiety raced around between his fleeting thoughts. Wasn’t this supposed to be sensual? He had to make it more sensual!

He leaned forward, over Kyle, trying to reach him for a kiss. He didn’t manage, falling just a little short. Instead, he settled on taking Kyle’s hand and kissing it.

“Gonna move. Tell me if it hurts. Moan if it doesn’t.”

 

Kyle’s fingers brushed over Tweek’s face, hand cupping his cheek briefly before he put it in the back of Tweek’s neck.

“Okay.” Kyle confirmed, angling his leg a little bit to give Tweek a bit more freedom to move. When he did pull back to slowly thrust back into him, it did feel slightly uncomfortable, but nothing Kyle couldn’t take. Much the opposite, he wanted to take it, more of it, just to see how strained he could make Tweek’s voice become.  At the next movement into him, Kyle moaned, just a quiet little ‘ah’, but the expression on Tweek’s face made it super worth it.

He did it again, louder this time, which seemed to spur Tweek on. Now, getting fucked, stimulation-wise, wasn’t the end-all-be-all-thing right now, but the mere fact of it that it was happening to him turned Kyle on enough for him to slowly start enjoying himself.

The moans tumbling out of his mouth weren’t for show, he meant them.

 

Each moan encouraged Tweek a little more. He went a little deeper, hips moving a little faster, all in painfully small increments. Kyle was tight and warm everywhere, and really, Tweek would have been capable of blissfully coming within the first thirty seconds, but he remembered his own, frustrating first time and he was determined to make Kyle come close to a climax. Or, you know, actually come. He wouldn’t give up before then, no matter how nice the fire in his belly burned, or how much his dick was ready to just still and spill.

His hands wandered to Kyle’s waist, then his hips. Anywhere that he could cling to, really. And again, he sped up a little, noises tumbling from his mouth along with senseless praise.

 

Kyle was definitely into it by now, he bucked his hips readily into Tweek’s, one hand on Tweek’s shoulder, the other clinging onto his side. It felt good, overwhelming, but not as world-shattering as the blowjob earlier had been. Tweek though, Tweek looked like he was barely holding onto his sanity and that was a whole big boost to Kyle’s ego right there.

“Hey, Tweek…” He brought out, making his boyfriend look at him, immediate worry on his face. Kyle reached for his cheeks, ran his fingers through his hair. “You f-feel good? Cause I want you to, with m-me.”

 

“I do, I feel great, holy fuck,” Tweek hissed through his teeth, a necessity if he wasn’t supposed to come on the spot. Kyle was way too hot and into this for a beginner, and he was making Tweek feel like he was the virgin here (which wasn’t bad at all). He was definitely going to remember this. Kyle, with his hair wildly sticking out around his head, his nose red, his face flushed, his own cock dripping clear liquid onto his stomach.

Tweek made a desperate little grunt.

“I’m really, really with you. Fuck.”

 

Kyle moaned when Tweek’s hands on his hips held him steady as he pushed into him once again, but he didn’t let go off his boyfriend’s shoulder, instead leaned himself up to press his forehead against Tweek’s.

“You are.” Kyle whispered, he did want to see what was going to happen if he kept this up because Tweek was definitely into this, he could hear it in his voice and see it in his face, the way he held himself back. Kyle didn’t want him to hold back anymore, Kyle wanted him to lose it, because of him. He shifted his hips just a tiny bit and hooked his right leg over Tweek’s lower back, now allowing him to finally lean in for a kiss.

Kyle wrapped his arms around Tweek’s neck and pulled him in closer, moving his hips against him eagerly, not allowing his boyfriend the pause he probably needed.

“Nuh-uh.” Kyle whispered when Tweek made another desperate little noise, “You made me come, now it’s your turn.”

 

Kyle didn’t need to work so hard for that wish to come true. Mostly because Tweek was already utterly wrecked by feeling the inside of another person, a person he was definitely feeling all sorts of mushy feelings for.

“B-but, I want to...together?” He went straight from instructing to asking. Tweek looked into Kyle’s eyes and didn’t find any disapproval or judgement there, just the same, hazy pleasure he felt. It was something special, alright. Kyle made Tweek’s heart warm and fuzzy and that, he wanted to remember as much as the incredibly snug fit (heaven) that his dick was currently experiencing.

 

If Tweek trying so hard to hold on hadn’t already done so, his adorable little question would have melted Kyle’s heart right now. He swallowed, unable to get rid off the dumb smile Tweek managed to put on his face.

“Yeah.” Kyle answered, breathless from the exertion and the swarm of butterflies in his stomach region, “Just, uh, hold on.”  He went for the lube, just to pour some on his hand and reached for his own dick. It only needed a few decisive strokes and Kyle felt like he could come any second. 

“T-tweek, just, nnh.. I’ll…” Was all the warning poor Tweek got before Kyle tensed up, toes curling as he jerked himself into another climax, one that felt all the more intense because Tweek was still inside him.

 

There was no holding on anymore. Even if Tweek was a stronger man, he wouldn’t have managed it either. Kyle was warm and perfect and looking him right in the face when he came. Tweek drowned his moan in Kyle’s mouth, his thin lips swollen slightly from kissing. Tweek’s tongue swirled eagerly around Kyle’s as his hips pumped desperately, following the pulse of his orgasm. The pleasure ballooned through his body and he tried not to flop on top of Kyle like a dead fish, but damn, he felt so good and boneless right now.

“I feel like I’m floating,” he whispered against Kyle’s lips, as if it was a secret.

 

The dopey smile on Kyle's face became wider at the comment and then he chuckled, letting go off his own dick that fell back onto his stomach, into the mess he’d just produced there. Not that that mattered, everything that mattered was that Tweek looked at him like he was the absolute best person in the world. His Tweek.

Kyle wrapped his arms around him, warmth spreading in his chest as he tried to hug as much of his boyfriend as possible without pulling him right into the goo on his stomach.

“You’re acting like this is the first time you’re doing this. And I thought I’m the one burning his v-card here.” Kyle kissed his neck, then caught his lips in another kiss. He felt amazing, his whole body aglow with satisfaction and a cheesy sort of happiness he was glad to share with his boyfriend.

His  _ boyfriend _ .

Kyle squeezed Tweek again. “You’re mine.” He stated as the shared feelings made him possessive, “And I’m so happy you are.”

 

“You make me happy, Kyle. I know where you’re coming from.” Tweek smiled broadly for Kyle and swore right here under the stupid fairy lights, that he would never hurt this wonderful boy whom he dared to call his own. He’d gone out and found himself someone amazing.  He could only hope Craig was this lucky too, one day.


	22. Hold Me or Don't [Stan&Craig]

Ever since they’d gotten up, Stan had been particularly tense. First the phone call with Broflovski from which Craig had successfully managed to distract his boyfriend, but then, as soon as Stan walked out of his room’s door, he was all nerves and twitchy movements, as if someone was after him.  Craig knew to handle paranoia, if it really was that, but with Stan, it seemed to originate from some particular situation.

They had some quick breakfast in the kitchen with Stan scanning through Craig’s Facebook, reading all the comments.

His mom came in and looked at both of them.

“Stanley, I need you to go get groceries today, we’re out of several things and I need to prepare for the barbecue tomorrow.”

 

Craig eyed her, but she didn’t look particularly different or anything. She didn’t know. Would Stan tell her? Probably not, not in this condition.

 

Stan’s ‘condition’ consisted of  something way worse than Tweek’s bouts of paranoia and vague beliefs in conspiracy theories. Stan was teetering on the edge of his entire life collapsing into the hellhole of mainstream disapproval.

He’d scoured Facebook for messages, and found mostly the girls, discussing how this new relationship would affect the rating system. Some of Craig’s friends had commented too, but none of them exceeded more than two or three words, usually along the lines of ‘nice’ or ‘good for u’. 

No one was saying anything about Stan having a  _ boyfriend _ and he knew it was just the calm before the storm.

By the time his mom asked him to get groceries for the barbecue, Stan was up to his ears in fear of a reaction. There was no way that his mom didn’t know, right? She used Facebook religiously, every morning, mostly to share terrible minion memes and chortle over the antics of other people’s kids.

And yet, Sharon said nothing to him about it. Didn’t even give Craig a weird look or anything. She just held out money and a shopping list that Stan took with all the grace of a robot.

“Okay...uh...who’s coming to the barbecue, again?”

 

“Everyone we know.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, Stan. Sheila says Kyle should be home in time, so don’t worry about having no kids to hang out with.”

 

Stan managed to breathe again, at least. He didn’t notice that he pushed himself closer to Craig. Sharon looked between them both.

 

“You’re invited too, of course, Craig. I’ll give Laura a call, okay?”

 

Instinctively, Craig’s arm snaked around Stan’s waist to hold him close and comfort him, not to show anything to his mom or whatever.

“Thanks, Mrs Marsh.” He knew how to be a good, proper boyfriend that moms loved alright, all good manners and please and thank yous. Stan still seemed to be in a perpetual state of shock when Craig led him outside, towards the jeep.

“Babe.” He called, softly, and put a hand on Stan’s on the steering wheel, “You’re still alive.”

 

“What? Yeah?” Stan was completely out of it. When was someone gonna come at him with the accusations he was expecting? Where was the judgement he expected, where were all those little voices that should be shooting him down?

He looked at Craig and felt a little more grounded. At least he wasn’t alone with this.

“Isn’t coming out supposed to be super hard? I...I feel like there’s a storm, waiting for me somewhere, and I don’t know how to brace for it.”

 

Craig shrugged. “You never know with this shithole. They might try to lapidate you, they might put you on a pedestal and worship you. They might just ignore you because something else is more interesting.” He reached for Stan’s hand and squeezed it, until he caught Stan’s insecure gaze.

“No matter what, I’m right there with you, okay? I got you. Besides, the shopping trip might get awkward, but at least you’ll get a taste of how bad it’s gonna be. Kinda like when you start peeling off the edge of a bandaid slowly to test how much it hurts and if you need to rip it off or do it slowly.”

At least Stan had started the Jeep and they were on the way to the supermarket.

 

“Thanks, Craig.”

Craig was kind of bad at making anything sound pleasant. How could he possibly make it worse? By telling Stan in detail that he was running right into the cloud of ignorance he’d been expecting ever since he realized that he had come out.

The supermarket seemed innocent enough when they pulled into the parking lot. It also didn’t seem particularly intolerant when they got the shopping cart and began to assemble the long list of essentials Sharon had given to Stan.

He began to relax. Maybe he wasn’t giving his hometown enough credit. All the adults, in their stupor of being, well, stupid, had been enthusiastic when it came to Tweek and Craig in elementary school. True, that was the height of their self-indulgence of ‘tolerance’, started by the Whole Foods opening up, but hey, no one had really gone out of their way to bash gay people lately. Maybe he’d be okay. Maybe, no one really-

 

“Excuse me, but could you keep it down in public? There’s kids around, for Christ’s sake!”

A middle-aged lady had approached them, kid on her arm, Craig had just been pushing the cart around and touched Stan’s back to indicate the yogurt to him.

 

“Keep what down, ma’am?” He asked, more politely than ever. Homophobes hated it when you were nice to them.

“This whole…” She gestured at Craig’s hand which he had just left on Stan’s back for now.

“Me talking to my boyfriend about the yogurt? I’m afraid this is a supermarket and I have to do that here.”

The lady seemed angry, but didn’t know what to say. Instead, her son did. “Mom, that’s Stan Marsh!” He beamed at Stan, “I’m a QB, too!”

 

Stan wanted to duck his head, but the kid’s bright smile was something for him to latch on to. He ignored the lady, her 90’s fake blonde do and her sneer as he turned to her son, sending him a bright smile.

“I can tell, you got those throwing arms, huh? Let me see it.”

The boy was more than happy to show Stan the noodles he called arms and Stan whistled, impressed. It was way easier to focus on being nice to a kid than dealing with a bigoted parent.

 

Craig dealt with her instead. While Stan interacted with the kid, Craig had a whole staredown with the mom until, finally, she gave in and turned around. “Let’s go, Tommy, he won’t be on the team for long like this.”

With that, she walked off, the kid waving over her shoulder at Stan.

Craig’s arm snuck around Stan’s waist and he pulled him in.

“Fucking bitch.” He muttered quietly, “Bet she hasn’t gotten laid in a decade, not with that hair.”

 

Stan was tense again and Craig hated the woman even more for it. “The kid loved you.”

“...What if I get kicked off of the team?” Stan was kind of thunderstruck. Craig’s hand on him felt like the only connection to real life he had left. Everything else was up for debate.

It never occurred to him as a possibility, not with the way coach Mason had always had his back.

Maybe it was, however, a possibility.

 

Craig stopped dead in his tracks even though he had just been about to push the cart to the next aisle.  He turned, frowning deeply at Stan.

“Do you see me kicked off the team? And yeah, I’ve been gay all along, doesn’t count, what about Jake? The guy is so gay it hurts and he still plays RB like a champ. Mason loves you like the son he doesn’t have. You’re not going to get kicked off of the team, that’s bullshit, Stan.”

Craig usually didn’t ramble, but his boyfriend had it coming. He reached for Stan’s hand and held it, tightly.

“Besides, even if Mason wanted to kick you off of the team, he knows it’s his  job he’s kicking as well. You’re the star player, we’re average at best without you. Everyone knows that.”

 

“I wasn’t fishing for that.” Stan muttered, but he didn’t fight off Craig’s point or his hand. Both were a comfort to have in his life, however, so he greedily indulged in it.

Craig had a good point. No one else had been kicked off of the team for being gay. Why should the case be any different for him?

After a moment, Stan squeezed the hand tightly and leaned over to kiss Craig on the corner of the mouth.

“You’re right and I’m being a fucking idiot. It’s not my fault though, it runs in the family. My dad is extremely dumb. He’s gonna say something stupid about it, no doubt. And probably embarrass the hell out of both of us at the barbecue. Probably show off how PC he is about it all.”

 

“That’s okay, baby. Think I gotta talk to your dad anyway, he’s been suspecting it for a while. I wasn’t particularly secretive about it.”

Craig shrugged. It didn’t matter. He had his own fair share of stupid dad, though in a very different way and could deal with most other specimen of fathers.

The rest of the shopping went by unspectacularly, though the cashier eyed both of them and then proceeded to send them a knowing smile once Stan was paying.

Craig didn’t care about it, but he prepared, mentally for another bout of Stan being a nervous wreck about all of this.

 

Craig would be disappointed. Because as much as Stan could wallow in things, it didn’t mean he did so when he could rest assured and move forward. At least, until he hit an actual hurdle to overcome.

Shopping for groceries didn’t provide anymore. Neither did arriving at home, where Sharon promptly announced that Craig was welcome to stay for dinner before he’d have to go back to his own house (this was lowkey about forbidding any possibility of sex, Stan knew his parents). Stan was also promptly drafted into helping in the kitchen, where a sour-faced Shelly was doing something awful to the vegetables they were supposed to have with dinner.

Randy chose the perfect moment to abduct Craig, if abduction was nodding his head at his son’s new (boy)friend and indicating that he follow him to the garage.

“You’re old enough for beer, right?”

“Technically or loosely put?”

That earned Craig a grin from Randy. He quickly added, “Yeah, I’m old enough.”

Stan’s dad had a look at the fridge, Craig looked around in the garage.

Now that it was clear his boyfriend’s parents were informed about what was going on (his mom’s indirect order for him to go home after dinner was a telltale sign that would definitely not keep them from sex, by the way), the situation here had another level than just helping out Stan’s dad.

Craig decided to not start any conversation and instead wait for Mr Marsh to ask him what he needed to know, obviously.

 

Randy made a show of opening Craig’s beer for him and handing it over. Maybe he wasn’t deliberately patronising, but there was no other interpretation for his odd expression of trepidation.

“I remember when you were kids, you and Stan never got along,” Randy sipped at his glutenfree can of beer, trying to square up his shoulders and look broader and bigger than Craig. He didn’t manage it.

“Then when you both started on the team...it really builds character, playing a team sport.”  He was idling, trying to make small-talk, avoiding the hot button issue that he’d intended to bring up.

“You never got any hassle about liking boys, right?”

 

Craig took a good swig of the beer, he didn’t dislike it and obviously, Mr Marsh wanted to have some sort of chat alone with him. Probably about Stan. And being gay.

He shrugged, “Sure, you always have people around you that try to cause trouble. I usually deal with them quickly. Homophobes don’t make it long on the team.” That was true. Before Stan had taken over in sophomore year, Craig had been the team captain and he’d had, together with the coaches, a zero tolerance policy with homophobes. Slurs, okay, whatever, but people that really had a problem with Craig or anyone gay, really, had been kicked.

“Things are different now. Stan’s a good friend and talented. Coach says he’s gonna make it big and I’m convinced he will. If anyone of us, it’s gonna be Stan for sure.”

 

Randy didn’t look so convinced, though he did perk up when Craig said ‘good friend’. He jumped on the opportunity, reaching for the trailing end of a thought that had nothing to do with reality.

“Of course. Stan was born to play football.” It sounded like a fact, and not an acknowledgement of the skill Stan had to acquire. But that was exactly how Randy viewed his son’s talent. A given.

He took a deep swig of beer before continuing the conversation.

“The NFL is kind of a rough place for anyone not...straight, though. It’s better that Stan gets his gay phase out of the way now, before college.”

 

“Don’t think being gay can be a phase, Mr Marsh.” Craig said casually, gulping down some more beer and shifting the can between his hands as his icy blue eyes met Randy Marsh’s, “To be frank about my personal opinion here, I think being gay has a lot to do with being a man. Becoming a man.”

 

Randy pulled a soured face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think it’s a phase for Stan. He’s always been so flaky on his everything. He was a goth, a vegetarian, an activist...all in kind of rapid order. He’s always flaking out of something, always trying and failing and giving it up. He’s just...he goes through phases.”

 

It was vaguely interesting to hear what his dad thought about his boyfriend, but Craig was still stuck on homosexuality being a phase.

“I think being gay is different to that. You can decide to become a goth or skip meat, be an activist. You can’t decide if you’re attracted to guys or not.” He shrugged, “Being gay is just like being hetero. Just manlier. Think about it. The stuff men do together. There’s no women involved. Do you go fishing with your wife, Mr Marsh? Watch football? No? That’s because you’re missing the best part of being gay. No women, no softness, no migraine.”

 

Randy frowned, not sure how the topic had turned around so quickly on him. Craig wasn’t making apologies for himself, which was odd and confrontational, but Randy also couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to an openly gay teenager before.

The theory offered, however, caught his interest very quickly.

“Explain that last part to me, will you? What do you mean manly? Aren’t gay men kind of...” he let his hand flop over, limp at the wrist, indicating something he’d seen Mr Slave do a million times.

“You know?”

 

Craig chuckled and emptied his beer, crumpling the can in his hand and throwing it easily into the bin nearby.

“Well, even if, and sorry for the language here, but even those gays  fuck each other’s asses. Why do you think women don’t like anal? Because truth is, only real men can take it.”

He really wasn’t speaking for himself here, but Mr Marsh seemed like a guy that had to be impressed in some form.

“In ancient Greece all the influential men, everyone who thought something of themselves had other men to love, they knew how to be real men. I assume you’ve seen 300? Troy?”

 

“Those are movies, Craig,” Randy reminded, though he was starting to sound a little unsure. What was Craig getting at? Of course being gay didn’t involve any women. That was the point, wasn’t it?

Although every historical society that he knew of seemed to involve gays somehow...“I mean, some women like anal...”

 

“In porn.” Craig stated, and shrugged. “Porn is porn. Movies, like you said. However, if you look at history books, ancient art… It’s real. Boys didn’t become men until they slept with another guy. We got it all backwards, today.”

He leaned back against the workbench in the garage, eyes still on Stan’s dad. he could see that the guy was thinking, hard, about his words.

“My boyfriend plays football and I don’t get to sit on the side and wait for him, I can be right there with him and make sure he’s able to work his magic. It’s not a phase, Mr Marsh, it’s real. I’m a guy and I get to do guy things with the guy I love. Nothing better than that.”

 

Craig’s theory was wild, but not entirely out there. Guy things were guy things for reasons, weren’t they? Women just didn’t enjoy them. That’s why they became things that you didn’t do with your wife or girlfriend.

In a bizarre sense, Craig’s theory sounded...right. There were just some men who preferred only the company of other men, and they were toughest sons of bitches Randy knew. Even South Park had examples for it; Jimbo sold guns for a living, hunted for the thrill and killed for sport. So did Ned. And neither of them had anything remotely to do with women.

Randy remembered the weeks he’d spent being metrosexual. He always figured there was only one way of being gay, but maybe, that’s just because he thought of gay as being with a woman, but intensified. Acting like women, with other men.

It never occurred to him that maybe, it was all about being with men and enjoying manly things.

“Huh. So...what you’re saying is that the ultimate man...can only be with other men?”

 

Craig nodded sagely, as if he’d just shared the wisdom of the century with his boyfriend’s dad.

“Yes. Exactly that. Being gay… It’s not like one guy in a gay couple is the woman. No, this isn’t what it’s about. It’s about being a man with a man. Ultimative manliness, if you will. A hundred percent. At all times.”

“All times, huh? So...you just do guy stuff all day and that’s it?”

Randy was intrigued, and a little jealous. it sounded like a sweet, easy existence, where nothing and no one ever needed to be unhappily arguing with someone’s wife about how much they drank or keying her car or picking up after the kids.

“Yeah.” Craig shrugged again to be as casual as possible about this. As if it really was no big deal, because really, it wasn’t. He just did whatever he and his boyfriend wanted and those were, per definition, all guy things. Automatically.

“Everything you do is a guy thing. Because there’s no women. No one’s the woman.”

“Yeah, yeah you’ve said that. So...what if you’re not gay yourself, but like, supportive? Like an ally? Does that count as being...manly?” Randy couldn’t really stomach the thought of giving up what a woman had to offer, but this whole gay existence sounded like something he couldn’t afford to miss out on.

And he did recall something about Allies from the days of hanging out with the PC fraternity.

 

“You’re supporting something manly, definitely makes you more of a man. Just my two cents though.”

Craig left a break for Mr Marsh to think, then continued,

“By the way, this is why messing up homophobes is easy, always. They’re pussies, all of them. My bad rep? Them being pussies and crying to their moms, instead of handling things like real guys.”

“That makes sense.”

Randy nodded sagely, as if he really accepted everything Craig spouted at face value.

 

“Hey, are you two done hiding in here?” Stan poked his head into the garage, expression somewhere between bored and desperate. He glanced between Craig and his dad and suspected nothing good had taken place here. His dad looked far too enthusiastic for it.

 

Craig shared a glance with Stan’s dad and grabbed the three sixpacks of beer before moving towards Stan.

“Thanks for the beer, Mr Marsh.”

He followed Stan back into the house to deposit the beer in the fridge in the kitchen.

It was obvious that his boyfriend would want to know what this was all about, what he’d been speaking about to his dad, but with a little bit of luck, Stan would see the result of the conversation tomorrow at the barbecue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Randy is extremely convenient as a vessel for dumb ideas and Craig likes to perpetuate bullshit :D


	23. Favorite Game[Everyone except Tweek]

Craig, usually dressed in casual slacks, was an expert at making himself look good when it counted. Some well-fitting jeans, the only shirt he had that fit his physique and a little bit of product in his hair and he was good to go for the barbecue.  The best thing about it was that he was already over at Stan’s, together with his boyfriend in the master bathroom. Stan was currently still fighting with his hair, shirtless still and Craig buttoned his shirt up particularly slowly in order to have a good look at him.

“It’s just a barbecue, babe. It’s even outside. You can wear a hat.”

Moving behind him was easily done in two steps and Craig looked at both of their reflections in the mirror, Stan’s expression particularly unhappy with his hair. Craig leaned down to kiss his neck.

 

It was tough to be unhappy with Craig’s kisses and affection, but Stan managed just fine. Mostly because his hair looked horrible and his entire neighborhood now knew that he was in some parts, completely gay. Completely gay and taken, which was the only upshot about it all. If he’d had to deal with coming out alone, he would never have dared to in the first place.

His hands lingered on Craig’s arms and he sighed wistfully. He wished he could just hide away and somehow, all of this would blow over and be forgotten.

“Do I look gay?”

He stared at the shiny strands of his hair full of contempt. It wasn’t really the question he wanted to ask, but saying ‘am I ready for this’ seemed even more insecure.

 

“Yeah.” Craig said and watched Stan’s face fall.

“Put on your hat.  Just look normal. There’s nothing unnormal about being gay. People expect you to make a fuss, be ‘gay’ as in dress up and shit. Surprise them by just being you.” Craig combed a hand in Stan’s hair and messed it up purposefully. “Do you suddenly like your hair, just because you’re coming out?” During the following pause, Craig shrugged. “Didn’t think so. Just be you.”

Sure, he had dressed up as well, but that was for other reasons. When Stan gave him and his outfit a questioning look, Craig chuckled and leaned in, whispering to Stan’s ear.

“I dressed up for purposes involving you, babe.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Stan couldn’t lie, but he also couldn’t stop noticing that Craig looked extremely good. Why couldn’t he look like he gave a shit all of the time? Did it really have to be grubby sweatpants and dirty hoodies the rest of the time, Tucker?

He didn’t voice those questions, though, smoothing his hair down and hiding it under his usual snapback. Back to front, just as normal.

Normal.

“But I like it.” He took Craig’s hand, full of bravery. By the time they came down the stairs, however, it had left him and he gently disentangled their fingers when he heard the voices of the collective gathering in the garden.

 

Craig let him. It was better to let Stan do this at his own pace, be casual about it and just stay at his side.

When they left the house to the backyard, the people already present were currently busy being entertained by Randy Marsh who took great pleasure in introducing his brand-new barbecue grill to the crowd. Craig had had the introduction this morning already when he and Stan had helped him get the heavy monster out of the garage and into the backyard.

He kept himself in the background, behind Stan, until Mrs Marsh had trouble bringing a bowl of ice outside. Craig squeezed his boyfriend’s arm to indicate he was departing before he went and helped out. Stan’s mom was nice and his dad was okay, too, in a way.

Just a few seconds later the Broflovskis came around the corner, complete with a hyped up Ike who went straight for Stan for a very manly handshake.

 

“Hey dude.” Ike said with a grin, squeezing Stan’s hand, obviously proud he was wearing the same Broncos snapback as his brother’s best friend did. And then Kyle was there, pointedly going “Hey dude!” to emphasize he was the one with the dude-privileges here.

Stan seemed a bit nervous and Kyle knew why, just that he couldn’t talk about it. He took a step forward, then saw Craig leave the house in the background and stopped dead in his tracks.

Would it be weird if they hugged in front of Stan’s boyfriend?

He settled for ‘yes’ and went for a smile at Stan instead. “Made it home in time.” Kyle declared.

 

“Dude, what the fuck, come here.” Stan had no so such compulsions about avoiding a hug. Much the opposite. He felt so fucking vulnerable, he needed Kyle pressed close to him like air to breathe. The weight of the world wasn’t so heavy when you could share it with your best friend.

His arms closed around Kyle and he noticed how much smaller he felt. Three days had passed since he’d last seen him, but somehow, it felt like a month.

“Your mom already told us you got in. Congrats, dude. I’m so sorry I couldn’t go with you.”

He didn’t ask the questions he wanted to; _ how was the roadtrip with Tweek? Did you fuck? Did you fuck him, or he you? Did you miss me? Are you mad that I’m gay now? _

 

Now that Stan was hugging him, Kyle hugged him back like his life depended on it. He purposefully avoided looking at Craig, instead watched his hand petting Stan’s back.

“Thanks. Don’t worry about it, seriously. You’re in the semifinals, dude, that’s what matters. I’m gonna cheer so hard for you next Saturday.”

They broke the hug and Kyle stood back, right in time for Craig to step next to Stan.

“Hey Craig.” Kyle said, politely, but with a certain, weary distance.

Craig’s hand moved to the small of Stan’s back, just a light touch, but Kyle registered it immediately.

“Congrats, Broflovski, for getting in.” A tiny little smirk spread on his face, “To college, I mean.”

Kyle turned beet-red in about five speechless seconds. Had Tweek told him about their journey? Chances were low, but how else did he know?

 

It wouldn’t be hard to guess, but Stan was pretty sure he didn’t want to know a thing about Kyle’s relationship. Maybe that made him a selfish dick, but he wasn’t ready to breach the subject of ‘boyfriends’ with his best friend. They weren’t there yet.

Craig’s hand on his back was nothing, it was completely fine. In front of Kyle and Ike, anyway.

“Yeah, man, though I’m kinda bummed out already. California’s pretty far. “

How was he supposed to do all the things they needed to to be best friends, still? Stan stiffly ignored that he and Kyle hadn’t been spending too much time together prior to this whole mess anyway.

“But I knew you’d get it. You’re the smartest guy on the planet.”

 

Kyle was glad for his best friend’s attempt at changing topics. He did not want to talk about this, not with Stan and especially not in front of Craig. Supermodel Craig because that’s what he looked like, with minimal effort.

“Hey, you’re gonna go to god-knows-where to become the next Brady, dude. No complaining.” Kyle managed to grin and was glad when Ike took over.

“Yeah, NFL in no time until you come back to play for the Broncos!”

 

Craig’s hand on Stan’s back rubbed him gently. He knew full well this definitely wasn’t his boyfriend’s favourite topic, especially now that he had to deal with his coming-out.

He decided to intercept.

“State Champions first. First ring we’ll get for each other, I guess.”

Okay, maybe he needed to rub it in Broflovski’s face, just a little bit, just to tease and gauge if he was jealous or not. His expression, changed, just a little bit, and his eyes darted over to Stan’s face to see what he’d say. Craig just found discomfort in Kyle’s face. Huh. So he was really over him?

 

Stan tensed up like a spring when Kyle began to mention playing professional football. That spring only coiled further when Craig spoke of the state championship. At least one of these two topics wouldn’t be affected by his gay presence.

The ring thing, however, made him snort out a bout of laughter and he elbowed Craig.

“If we make state champions, I’ll give you a fucking ring alright, a coc-”

_ Fuck _ . Stan fell silent immediately, turning to Kyle with an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry! Shit, I’m not...it’s weird, just, you know, being...out.”

His hand played with Craig’s back pocket. It was so rare of him to have any.

 

Craig snorted. Under the gazes of both Broflovski brothers, he pressed his face against the side of Stan’s head and kissed him. He didn’t give a shit and Stan had brought up the cock rings, not him.

He saw Kyle swallow and his little brother looking between him and Stan, trying to figure out if they were really real about this.

 

Kyle raised his hands. “It’s, uh, it’s fine, dude. At least you, you know, did it. Congrats, now everyone’s gonna stare for two days and then something else is more interesting.” He tried to play it down, Stan was probably worried about it, while trying his best to ignore one Craig Tucker who was busy surgically attaching himself to his best friend.

Okay, maybe Kyle was a little bit jealous, but only because now Craig got to hog Stan and they’d, well, probably never become like they had been again.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, or tried to, and failed. To fight the sinking feeling in his chest, Kyle spoke.

“Well, uh, I guess I’m gonna go grab some food. Haven’t eaten anything since this morning.” Because he’d been hanging out with Tweek all day, proof of that hidden (hopefully safely) under the bandana around his neck.

“I’ll tag, bro.” Ike, for once, followed his brother around instead of Stan, who could only grip Craig’s pocket as his best friend waltzed off.

 

“...Did he seem mad to you? I think he’s mad.” Stan sighed, leaning against Craig. This was already emotionally taxing. Ike had looked at him as if he’d sprouted an extra head. Or, you know, just seemed kind of weird. 

But Kyle’s reaction? The way he was suppressing his discomfort was downright obvious. Kyle was a shit liar.

“Too late to run to the cabin?”

 

Craig squeezed his shoulder and then casually kept his arm around him. “I think he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. Neither do you, so it’s whatever. You’ll figure things out.”

He turned both of them and steered Stan towards the fridge to grab them something to drink and maybe for a second of private chat. Angling for some bottles of beer, Craig spoke quietly. 

“I’m here, baby. If you’re uncomfortable, you let me know. Just tug on my belt or something.” Craig could do this, had done this plenty of times, with Tweek. He’d learned that sometimes just bringing this up, letting someone know they had backup helped a lot in stressful situations, “I’ll take over then. And now we’re going to grab some hot dogs cause I really want some.”

 

“Hot dogs are super gay, good call.” Stan murmured, somewhat reassured by Craig’s solid presence. He was such an insightful guy, really, it was kind of concerning. Was Stan supposed to offer that level of emotional support?

“Hey, babe?” he tried the nickname in broad daylight. Thunder and lightning spared him, and the sun kept shining. Stan perked up a little, enough to lean in and press a kiss on Craig’s nose.

“Thanks. Everyone thinks you’re tough as shit, but you’re kind of a marshmallow. I love it.”

 

“For you. Just for you.” Craig replied, a small smile playing around his lips. Stan was slowly warming up to the idea of just being himself. Really, fuck other people. If they were gonna come up with bullshit directed at them, they’d have to deal with Craig’s icy response. Other than that, he was going to provide reassurance to his boyfriend on his tiny baby steps out of the closet.

He did want to spin Stan into his arm and kiss him, full on the lips, but he kept himself from it. It was probably too much at this point, right?

“Okay. Hot dogs.”

With a beer in one hand and Craig’s hand (now taken firmly again) in the other, Stan felt brave enough to face the garden and the world. That bravery didn’t vanish when people started to greet him.

It was as if no one cared. 

 

Stan had spent such a long time working out exactly what the gameplan was, here. And other people had become strategies, moves, their arguments the plays they’d try for. The ball, in this case, was Stan’s dignity as a human being, more or less. And now? He was alone on the field, with no one to attack him. It was almost disappointing.

When they arrived at the grill, Randy beamed at him, then nudged Jimbo beside him and pointed to Craig and Stan’s joined hands.

“What?” Stan snapped, defensive and ready for his dad to be stupid.

Randy blinked at him, then grinned.

“Nothing. Just taking bets about something completely unrelated that has nothing to do with your personal life, son.”

Stan almost bore his teeth. Jimbo took a deep swig and nudged Randy in the hip.

“No way. That’s not how it goes in nature.”

“Yeah-huh. The alpha male is always the one in charge.”

 

Stan felt blood rush simultaneously to his face and away from it.

 

“Alpha male?” Craig asked, curious about the theory. As an alpha male himself, he needed to hear all about it, of course.  The tug on his hand was easily ignored, he really wanted to know what this was all about.

“Good that you’re here, Craig, I was just telling Stan’s uncle here about the wild theory you put up yesterday. I figured that when everyone’s a man, there must be an alpha male established. Right?”

 

Craig contemplated it for a moment, then shrugged and said, “Yeah, sure.”

 

“Hah!” Randy exclaimed, much to the chagrin of both Stan and his uncle.

Alpha...male? Oh god. Stan could guess at what that was supposed to be. Supposed to mean. Some dumbass men had to explain everything as ‘natural’, following an order that made a difference between who was ‘stronger’.

It was a stupid theory for stupid people, so of course his dad was up to his eyeballs in it.

“Dad. What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“No, listen, Stan, it makes a lot of sense. Me and Ned worked out the details last night, right after Randy told us about you.”

“Told you about me?”

“Yeah, that you’re, you know,” Jimbo pointed to Craig and Stan, then wriggled his fingers together, “like that.”

“Gay.”

“Yeah, that. It’s because you’re an omega.”

“A what?” Stan could feel the magnetic attraction between his fingers and the bridge of his nose. His family consisted of put upon women and really stupid men.

 

“I get it.” Craig said and all eyes were on him.

“There can only be one alpha male. The other has to be an omega. Or a beta male, I guess.”

 

Jimbo exchanged an excited look with Randy. “A beta, like one that can be either with an omega male or an alpha male.”

Craig shrugged, not particularly invested in the theory. He didn’t care, as long as nobody doubted he was clearly the alpha male here.

 

“I hope you all know that this is the most retarded shit I’ve ever heard.” Stan declared, gaining wrinkles and gray hairs at every turn during this damned barbecue. He detached himself from Craig, ready to park him with this stupid but tolerant version of his dad and uncle.

 

“No, it’s nature, Stan. It all makes sense. You’ll see when you’ve gotten a bit more insight into being gay.” Randy spoke like a sage and Stan had heard enough.

 

“I’m gonna go talk to Kenny. Get me a hot dog, babe.”

 

“Yeah, see, the alpha male provides and the omega makes demands. It’s just like with men and women.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Stan walked away quickly.

Across the garden, under the tree where they’d built and re-built Stan’s clubhouse on many times in the past, Kyle had found Kenny to chat to. About nothing in particular, really, Kenny was wise enough to not ask about Stan and his boyfriend and Kyle was grateful for it.

When Kenny’s gaze stuck to something behind him, Kyle turned, just to see Stan approach. Without Craig and that had something in Kyle feel relieved and glad, even though it was kind of mean to admit to.

“Hey. Your dad still not done with the hot dogs? What’s he on about? He’s gathering a crowd.”

 

“Oh god, you don’t wanna know. You’ll get an aneurysm.” Stan was kind of grateful that there was something to talk about other than the awkward  silence between them.

“Hey Ken, what’s up man?”

“Not much. Kind of a sausage fest, you know? It’s like there’s no girls at all on our block.” Kenny noticed the tension right away, of course. It was in the air between them as soon as Stan had made his way over. There was always something with Kyle and Stan, ever since they were kids. To be honest, Kenny had let go of trying to play bridge or messenger between them. Some things, you just had to work out for yourself, even if it meant failing, repeatedly, at it.

“I’m kinda surprised, you know.”

“Why’s that?” Stan relaxed in the presence of his friends. Kenny was gonna be completely okay with him, he always was.

“You know. I always figured if anyone’s gay, it would be the two of you. Like, together. But no, it’s Stan. I guess you were lying when I shared all my best magazines with you. That hurts, man.”

Stan’s expression grew a little tense, a muscle in his jaw popping, but then he took a deep breath. It was just Kenny. He didn’t mean anything hurtful by it.

“Wasn’t lying, Kenny. I like tits too. Bi’s a thing, you know.”

“That’s not what your Facebook profile says, Stanny boy.” Kenny grinned wolfishly.

“I don’t even have a Facebook page.”

“Your fanpage, then. But okay, I can spread the word from the Marsh man himself. Let the people know thy will, oh QB, and it shall be done.”

 

Kyle rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face at Kenny’s last piece commentary wouldn’t go away. It made it easy to rip on Stan’s tentative small-town-celebrity status instead of dealing with the fact that Kenny indicated something that could have been reality if, well, Kyle had waited another year with his confession. Maybe.

“I’ll prepare a powerpoint presentation and hold it in the community center. You know, ‘STANding up for my manhood - now for chicks and guys!’” He volunteered, raising his arms to defend against possible play-punches from his best friend, grinning.

 

Stan easily slipped into the dynamic he treasured with Kenny and Kyle both; the one where they gently ripped on him and he pretended to be offended.

“Hey, some of us are the vanguard, you know. You gotta stand up for what’s right, and if you want to suck a dick along the way, that’s fine too.”

Kenny burst into a fit of laughter. He could barely contain himself and Stan swore he saw snot flying out of his nose, but he couldn’t confirm that.

“Oh my god. You’ve sucked Tucker’s dick, man?”

“...dude, he’s my boyfriend. That’s like asking if you fondle your girlfriend’s tits.”

“Touche. So you don’t fondle each other’s tits?”

Stan and Kenny’s back and forth was just friendly ribbing, and Stan didn’t mind it at all. It just made it all the better, like nothing had changed at all for his best friends. That’s how it was supposed to be, right?

 

Kyle decided to file the dick-sucking point away for later instead of thinking too much about it now, possibly ruin his own and then everyone else’s mood. He didn’t know what to make of being faced with Stan and Craig together like this and he’d evaluate that later, have some fun now.

“I mean,” Kyle shrugged and send an estimating glance over to Tucker before leaning in conspiratorially and whispering, “He does have bountiful cleavage right now.”

That had Kenny snort again and this time, Stan elbowed him, grinning as well. Kyle couldn’t help the soft, warm affection rise in his chest, for both of his friends, but especially Stan. Maybe things would finally look up, maybe them having boyfriends would finally be some sort of chance after all? It was looking like it at the moment, despite the earlier hiccup.

Kenny lifted his hands and squeezed at the air.

“Tucker’s got great tiddies. I wouldn’t mind giving them a good one, you know? Do you motorboat each other, Stan? Is that like jock sixty-nining?”

“Dude, what the fuck. Why would we do that?” Stan laughed, tears in his eyes because it was such a stupid suggestion. Kenny was a natural at dissolving tension.

“What? I did that with your sister last week.”

“Kenny, what the fuck.” Stan was just about to demand if this was true, but their cozy little conversation was disrupted once more.

 

“Hey, what are you fags giggling about?” Cartman had spotted them at last and left his mother’s side. Lianne was, of course, a sweet delight, bringing a platter with her that her son had already half-emptied.

Kyle was still laughing about the supposed jock-activity when Cartman arrived, as per usual bombing the party. Not that it mattered though, Kenny was still snorting and Stan was wiping at his eyes.

“Stan let us in gracefully on the secrets of jock-dom.” Kyle said, still in a good mood and exchanged a meaningful glance with Kenny, his partner in crime here. Both of them snorted again, Kenny elbowing Stan.

 

“Oh yeah? Is he letting you in on the mysteries of ass-fucking too?” Cartman had a way of bombing any conversation he chose to, and deciding it completely in his favor.

Kyle’s face dropped, right into that familiar, knitted brow and fiery expression in his eyes. He was ready for a verbal smackdown, and he wasn’t the only one. Even Kenny looked ready to jump in, but it was Stan that boxed Cartman’s shoulder and steered him away from their friends.

“Come on, fatass, let me tell you my secrets.”

Eric perked up. It wasn’t often that Stan demanded any kind of private talk with him. Their group of four hardly ever hung out together anymore, and Kenny was the only surviving link between him and the inseparable duo of Stan and Kyle.

A smug little smirk crossed his face at the way Kyle sucked in a deep breath. He was still the easiest target in the world, offering up his temper and opinions as easily as a moth burned up in a flame.

But Kyle didn’t get to speak to him. Instead, Stan steered him a couple of feet away and faced him with a neutral expression on his face. Maybe being with Craig Tucker rubbed off some of that don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, because Stan seemed perfectly calm. Too calm. It was kind of unnerving. Stan had that whole white knight complex, just like his dad, and he always jumped into the defense right after Kyle. But not this time. Eric back-peddled a little, afraid of hearing all the messy, gross details of Stan’s new sexlife.

“Stan, man, I don’t really wanna hear about ass-fucking. That was an icebreaker.”

 

“Is that right? So you don’t have a problem with me being gay, huh?”

There was something measured in his tone. Measured and calculated, as if Stan was waiting for something and deciding whether or not he wanted to kick Eric’s ass over it.

 

“Nah, of course not. Remember how supportive I was of Tweek and Craig?”

Stan frowned.

“That doesn’t count. The whole town was in on that.”

“Yeah, but I got them together.” Eric pointed out, producing a bag of chips he’d brought from home. Just in case the Marshes didn’t have his specific brand and tried to make him eat store-brand crap.

“Though I totally thought you and Kyle were gonna be the gays, if anyone.”

Stan didn’t even flinch, but he found himself agreeing with him. He’d thought that too, at some point, and then things had not worked out the way he expected. Kyle meant the world to him, and changing anything about their relationship had his stomach twist nervously. No, Kyle was perfect the way he was, out of the reach of Stan’s terribly, moody heart.

“You would have been jealous if that were true.”

 

“What? No way, I hate Kyle. Why the fuck would I be jealous?” Eric crunched a handful of chips, decidedly ignoring what Stan was implying.

Stan graciously let it slip, for just a moment. But he knew Eric well, and he knew how to make him uncomfortable, fast. If he was uncomfortable, he’d behave better than if he was in his element.

“Who says I was talking about Kyle? That was all you.”

 

Cartman choked on his chips and met Stan’s gaze with an affronted and yet guilty expression plastered to his face.

“I’m not gay.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“Yeah you did. You just said that I’d be jealous of you and jewboy being fags.”

“Mostly because none of us would ever want to think about you that way, right?”

“What? No fucking way. Fuck, you’re really fucking gay now, huh?” Eric pocketed his chips, a possible choking hazard that could end this conversation and his life prematurely. He was ready to defend himself to the moon and back.

But none of it was necessary, because Stan shrugged off his argument without a care. It was definitely a Tucker thing, and Eric hated it.

“It’s okay,  _ Eric _ . Everyone had a crush on me. All those times you tried so hard to impress me, or get me to side with you. I get it now. You had it bad.”

 

“What? No fucking way, I did not ever have a fucking crush on you!”

 

“Really? Never?”

 

“No! Never!”

 

“But you’d be jealous if I got with Kyle?”

 

“Yeah but not because of you-” Eric’s mouth snapped shut and his face turned an ugly shade of red. Blushing really didn’t suit him, even if it did make his full cheeks very rosy.

Stan smiled, victorious, even if the confession of Cartman’s unhealthy obsession with Kyle was still unspoken.

 

“Tell you what. If you don’t piss anyone, and I mean anyone, off today at this stupid barbecue, Kyle will never have to know. And you don’t have to shit your pants about what he’d do or say if he did know. Do we have a deal, big man?”

Eric wanted to fume, but there was nothing he could offer in retaliation. He didn’t have that kind of ammo against Stan.

“Fuck you, Stan.”

 

The casual air with which Stan flipped Cartman off was definitely all Craig Tucker.

“Right here buddy. Now go stuff your face and be a good bigot.”

Stan didn't wait for a reaction, walking off with a feeling of accomplishment that no one else was going to understand. At least the peace at the barbecue was guaranteed, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ABO is a little bit ridiculous and we poked some fun at it. It's totally a thing I could see Randy being dumb enough to believe.


	24. Wonderwall [Stan&Kyle]

He wound the TV back one more time. Fifth time lucky, maybe? He just couldn’t see the little signs in the lineup just yet, but he needed to. Finnigan was the name of the Quarterback, and he was masterful at hiding his intentions.

Strictly, Stan didn’t have to look at this stuff. The D-line had their own coach who studied all of their competitors, who taught all the finesse required for the defensive players to take down the other team’s offense.

But Stan was a team captain through and through. Just because he never spent a day on defense didn’t mean he couldn’t know exactly what was going to happen.

Except Finnigan was a damn enigma and Stan had spent the last three hours watching replay after replay.

He was ready to throw in the towel and bury his face under his pillow for the rest of the day. The game was tomorrow. The team was due to leave in the morning, and at least half of the town was going to be following the bus to the state championship.

 

He didn’t feel like doing anything relaxing at all. He’d even declined Craig’s company, which was unusual in itself, but Stan didn’t want to subject his boyfriend to the nervous wreck that he was being right now.

That didn’t keep Stan’s cellphone from announcing an incoming text message.

 

_ Its friday dude _

Kyle’s fingers were quick on the keyboard. Knowing his best friend, Stan was probably a wreck right now, worrying his lips and slowly going insane about the game tomorrow.

Fridays were pizza days, or had been at some point, and one state championship game wouldn’t change that, right? Maybe getting Stan’s mind off of the match tomorrow was the right way to go about it.

He’d been tense the entire week, the whole team was, but Stan in particular.

On his phone, Stan’s status changed to ‘online’, but he wasn’t typing anything just yet.

 

Stan stared at his phone, unsure if he could be trusted to answer right now. Kyle wanted to waste time by going to, what, eat burgers and drink milkshakes and be awkward? Stan remembered the last time they’d been out in public together, sans the barbecue. It wasn’t particularly pretty or comfortable.

But this was Kyle. Didn’t he always get a free pass from Stan?  Wasn’t their friendship on an entirely different level that discounted personal discomfort and the pressure of a life-changing event hanging over his head?

He waited with his reply. Stan didn’t know if this was going to be an issue or not, but he definitely at least needed to answer.

_ Game tomorrow, not sure if thats a good idea :/ _

 

Stan’s response was timid. Kyle too knew that their last burgers-and-milkshake-Day hadn’t gone particularly well, but this wasn’t about the weirdness between them, this was about taking Stan’s mind off of football, at least for a few hours.

Besides, the guy loved pizza.

_ I’m over in five, pizza is on me. _

Kyle just decided that. Stan needed to get out of his room, away from the screen he’d probably been glued to, studying his enemy and despairing over the last few details he just couldn’t catch.

Besides, Stan had never once said no to free pizza.

He messaged Tweek he was gonna go out with Stan and not be texting for a while, then grabbed his jacket and wallet. His mom wanted to know where he went and got ‘Stan’ for an answer right before Kyle closed the door behind him. Two minutes later he rung the Marshs’ doorbell. If Stan wasn’t going to open, Kyle was not beyond climbing or throwing pebbles.

Stan moped around in his room, even when his mother called his name as she answered the door downstairs. Nothing stirred either, and Sharon let Kyle in with a deep sigh.

 

“He’s nervous. He’s been hiding up there all day with the TV on.” Sharon had no doubt that her son’s best friend would have an impact on Stan, but he wasn’t the only boy in South Park capable of it.

“Craig must be nervous too, otherwise he’d be here. He’s always here before they have a game, but not today.”

 

Kyle nodded. “Yeah, I mean, this is it, right? The big game. I’ll try to coax him out with pizza.”

Sharon seemed to be happy about his plans and nodded at him. Kyle smiled and took the stairs with ease. Stan’s door was closed, so he knocked.

  
“Dude?” No answer, so Kyle opened the door. Stan looked like he’d fallen in a puddle and mustered no strength to get up. “Hey.” Kyle said, more softly, “Let’s go. You know you want pizza.”

 

“Do I?” Stan continued to lie face down on his bed, not bothering to lift up from the comforts of their soft oblivion. Maybe if he pretended he was absolutely still and timeless, he could forget the nervous sweat soaking his back or the pounding headache turning his brain into mush.

He never knew he could feel this anxious and powerless about something he was so good at. But it wasn’t just football, was it? No, it was the entire town, trailing the bus. The hopes and expectations of his team. The quiet demand of Craig’s promise. His own future, riding on the outcome of this one, single game.

Stan contemplated if death would be an escape from this hellish mix of emotion, but Kyle was talking about pizza as if there was any part of Stan’s stomach that could handle food right now.

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Kyle crossed his arms. He was not going to budge here, the state of his super best friend clearly called for some sort of action. Even at the risk of Stan digging out the Mrs. Broflovski again.

“You need to eat something, dude. Either pizza or your mom’s mashed potatoes that she’s preparing downstairs.” Stan didn’t like mashed potatoes, he found them bland and boring.

  
“And I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be pizza for you, so get your ass up.”

Silence. Kyle prepared his ultimate weapon, aimed and fired.

“Don’t think you can play tomorrow if you refuse to eat, Stan.”

 

“I have to play tomorrow.” Stan’s head shot up as Kyle’s plan did the trick. Nothing motivated the young Quarterback like the fear of failure, but the distant worry of not getting his shot at glory was also a highly effective weapon against him.

He turned around at least, eyeing Kyle and his determined, crossed arms.

“Coach would never bench me for the championship game. I’m the best player on the team.”

 

“Yeah, and if you don’t eat you’re gonna be weak and not at your best. That’s how it is. So what’s it gonna be, pizza or mashed potatoes?”

Kyle held Stan’s gaze steadily. His best friend looked weary, as if he doubted that Kyle wanted the best for him. Could be hurtful, but Kyle knew him long enough to be aware that Stan was just moping.

“Come on, dude. Cheesy crust and all.”

 

Stan narrowed his eyes. This was a trick to get him out of bed, and out of the house. Kyle wasn’t very good at disguising his intentions, nor was he a good liar. The question was whether or not Stan wanted to let him get away with said lie.

“I want wings. Doubles.” He squinted up at Kyle, mouth in a tight line, “And ice-cream after.”

 

Kyle squinted right back at him.

“You’re driving a hard bargain, Marsh.” He growled and pretended to contemplate for a moment, “But fine. You win now, but you won’t get away so easily next time.”

Finally. Stan had probably seen right through his intentions, but Kyle hadn’t aimed to hide them anyway. He just wanted to help his friend out, make him spend the day with a little less worry and a lighter headache, maybe.

He grabbed Stan’s jacket from the chair next to the door and threw it at his best friend.

“Let’s go.”

 

This time, Stan complied and about fifteen minutes later they were both sat at Whistlin’ Willy’s.

 

It was the only pizza place in town, was their argument, usually, for being here. Screaming children ran between the arcade games and the horribly cheery music blared out of tinny speakers. 

It was the only pizza place in town, and it sounded a little like hell right now.

Stan sat at the table, staring into the depths of a cheesy blanket. At least the pizza was good at Willy’s, and it had that nostalgic factor about it. Maybe that would be something neutral and fluffy to talk to Kyle about. Anything that wasn’t football, really.

“Do you remember our news’ show? And how we sat here, with our suits and hair and all?”

 

Kyle snorted, glad for the easy entry into some light conversation. At least Stan did want to talk about something else than football, seemingly eager to get his mind away from it as well. That was good.

“Yeah and then Tucker walked in with his hat and all, didn’t even look fancy, but he was the star. His show didn’t even have himself in it!”

 

He looked over at Stan, “Your hair was fucking amazing though. And you always looked good in suits, I mean, you didn’t look like a wet towel like the rest of us. Or, you know, like fatass. By the way, is Tucker still mad at us for Peru?”

 

“I don’t think he ever forgot, but funnily enough, it never comes up. As if he doesn’t remember, or he’s very actively avoiding it.” Stan notably perked up when the mention of Craig came about in a nostalgic sense. Nothing that said anything about the current situation, and Stan would happily flee into the past.

“You know, I’m really fucking happy that everyone is handling it so well, but especially you. You were always the most important person to me. I mean...if you didn’t approve, I’d feel really shitty.”

He already felt shitty, but that was all nerves.

 

The topic wasn’t new, but this was the first time they actually talked about this just among them. About Stan’s… change of heart, so to say. Kyle searched for it, but found no residue of the hurt he’d felt for so long about the rejection from back then.

 

“Dude.” Kyle said, slowly, “You’re my best friend. Super best friend. We made it through last year, I think you being with Craig doesn’t really change much. Except, you know, I’m glad it’s not Wendy.”

He offered a cheeky little grin, knowing full well that the comment would make Stan sigh.

“If Tucker ever asks me what to give you for your birthday, I’ll tell him to play you a piece on the panflute, you’d enjoy that.”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Stan laughed it off though, relieved that Kyle handled the topic with such ease and grace. Any residual doubt, that Kyle couldn’t accept Stan’s new sexuality was wiped out. His best friend was his best friend, no matter what.

“So, uh, you gotta tell me, and don’t get mad but this is important, on an SBF level; do you still have that v-card?”

 

That had Kyle snort and shrug.

“Nope.” He said, casually, but then had to laugh at Stan’s incredulous expression, “Hey, come on, we went on a road trip in his van, that was bound to happen, okay?”

Saying it like this sounded pretty cool and chill, not like two weirdo kids that had somehow managed to get it on after only three days of hanging out 24/7, right?

Kyle eyed Stan who looked slightly weary of his easy-going answer. It had Kyle sigh and run a hand through his hair before he leaned over the table.

“It took a while, okay? I was nervous because of the test and then I was nervous because, well, first time and all. Tweek was nervous because I was nervous, so I drove the van to this lake and it was super romantic and all, fireflies and stuff, like in the movies and then we had sex in the van.”

 

“In the van? In his crappy old van?” Stan had to admit, it sounded very much like Kyle to plan for something meticulously and then have his plans destroyed by life, running its course. Of course he and his boyfriend had taken advantage of the time spent together, alone, on the road. It sounded terribly romantic, even if that was not a trait that Stan associated with Tweek Tweak.

But he was learning not to judge any book by any cover, least of all its own.

 

“Congrats, dude. I’m so proud you finally got your dick wet,” Stan grinned, and relaxed fully into his afternoon with Kyle. This was better than laying around in his room with the curtains drawn shut, he had to admit to that.

“Haven’t really gotten that gay with Craig. I mean, we’ve done things. Lots of things. Is it weird that we haven’t like, fuck-fucked?”

 

“What, really? I thought...” Kyle trailed off and wanted to slink out, but Stan wouldn’t let him, that was for sure, “I mean… Tweek says that… Craig’s a horndog. Thought he was gonna be all over you.” 

It was odd, really. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Only three days ago, Kyle had not only found out that his and Tweek’s first time was also Tweek’s first time that way around, no, he had, in addition, found out that Craig refused to have anything more than a tongue stuck up his ass. Maybe that was the reason why, maybe Craig and Stan couldn’t agree on who was going to stick it in?

Kyle found the train of thought slightly amusing and chuckled before explaining himself to Stan.

  
“Sorry, man, Tweek said Craig’s a total top. They never did it any other way. That the problem maybe?”

It was good to talk to Stan about this casually, like super best friends were supposed to.

 

“Huh. Well, I dunno. He sort of...offered. Yesterday. But with things going as they are, I didn’t want to risk any kind of...you know, pain. Is it painful? I mean, did you...?” Stan couldn’t bring himself to formulate it out completely. Knowing whether Kyle took dick up the ass or not was kind of weird, and even though they were absolutely the best of friends, that was a level of closeness they had never really breached.

The subject of taking dick didn’t disturb him. He was curious about it, even if he hadn’t really considered that he’d be the one taking things on. Maybe being on the receiving end wasn’t as bad as he guessed, if guys like Tweek and Kyle could handle it easily. Kyle hadn’t limped or anything, and he’d never seen Tweek slouch around with a cushion for his ass either.

 

To Kyle, the topic was equally new between them. Sure, they’d jacked off in the Marshs’ cellar to some porn Kenny had fixed them when they were thirteen, but they’d never talked about it. Now, it became painfully obvious that the most they’d talked about sex was Stan complaining about Wendy’s disinterest in the subject.

And not just that. Things also happened to be exactly the other way around than usual, Stan had no experience in the matter and wanted Kyle to fill him in. Not to speak of Stan willing to take it up the ass, a scene out of his fantasies from not too long ago.

Kyle swallowed.

“Yeah, I did. Wasn’t painful, but, err, I’ve… tried things before. Not just fingers, I mean.” Okay, that was supposed to come out more smoothly. He remembered that Stan wanted advice and not some horror story, “Just make sure you, uh, take time with the prep. Like, if he wants your ass you’re okay to make him work for it. Until you’re good.”

 

“And then it feels good? Because I've seen his dick, had it in my mouth...it’s pretty big. Kinda freaks me out, you know?”

It was so good to talk to Kyle about all of this. He was the only person in the world that Stan could tell all of this to. All of his insecurities, and Kyle was here to hold him up so he wouldn't drown in them.

“I guess now I'm the one with the v-card.”

 

Kyle shrugged and grinned. “Guess you are.”

The comment on Craig’s dick was odd, but Kyle was pretty quickly getting used to talking casually about sex with Stan. Sex with their respective boyfriends.

It was almost surreal, all things considered.

“I mean, look, I won’t lie to you. It’s not bad if you relax, Tweek says it can feel amazing at the right, err, angle, but I wouldn’t expect it to be like in porn, you know? Like, straight up hands-free-coming kinda thing. Just, uh, be honest to yourself and to him about it. If you don’t feel okay, don’t do it.”

“Okay. That sounds a lot less scary than I expected.” Stan mustered a smile for his best friend, and he was grateful that they could talk about it now. God knows he couldn’t open up like this to anyone else.

 

Before they could continue on the topic, however, someone cleared their throat and looked over the back of Kyle’s bench.

 

“This is a  _ family  _ restaurant.”

 

The man was wide-set, heavy shoulders, balding head and an angrily quivering moustache covering his lips. He looked at both of them with the kind of disgust reserved for truly despicable acts of humanity, and when Stan met his gaze, he flinched at the unfiltered anger in the dark eyes of the man.

“You keep talking like that and I’m gonna have to remove you fairy boys myself.”

 

Kyle sat back and turned half-way, the open, relaxed expression on his face disappeared in favour of a deep frown.

His eyes wandered over the empty table the guy was sitting at.

“To what? Protect your invisible family? Sorry, but we’re paying customers and we’re staying as long as we want.” Kyle said in response, eyes narrow.

 

The guy’s mouth flapped open for an ugly second, before he let his ratty eyes tick over Kyle. Every feature, from his bright hair to his long nose seemed to be tipping the guy off into a worse mood.

"You’re that Broflovski boy, aren’t you?”

 

Stan tensed, and now he wasn’t smiling anymore either. He was just as ready to jump down someone’s throat for Kyle’s sake.

The shuffle of more footsteps took some tension out of the situation as three other guys arrived at the table of the man that was already giving them trouble. They didn’t look substantially unpleasant, although they were a little rough around the edges. Typical diner visitors, really.

They assessed the situation quickly, their eyes all travelling over to the adjacent booth.

“Well, I’ll be. Stanley Marsh, ey. Who’da thought we’d be seein’ you out and about. Ernie here givin’ ya lip? Pay him no mind.”

 

Stan was relieved for all of one minute, before their booth was invaded by the men and their questions and encouraging smiles.

 

“You seen those D-Boys the Cubs have? You’d be smart to be usin’ some flanking moves.” The advice was unbidden and began pouring out of each quivering moustache.

Stan could feel the world close in on him again, climbing onto his back and hanging from his shoulders.

 

Kyle had been about to give the earlier guy an earful about any commentary on his family, but he was just as ready to jump to Stan’s defense in this new situation.

“Stan’s got the plan down for sure.” He said, friendly, but distinct, “Basically had to peel him away from the replays, even if he’s had it all planned out since last week.” Kyle was aware of his best friend’s mood swing, it was easy to see in his body language that Stan was highly uncomfortable and drifting back into the tension from earlier easily.

“Thought to just, you know, have some nice food, see something else. Doesn’t help to make yourself crazy before the first down, right?”

With a little bit of luck, the guys would catch on and agree it would be best to leave the star player of their favourite team a little bit of space.

 

Kyle was giving these guys too much credit. He was also expecting too much empathy out of a bunch of football enthusiasts.

The words depicting Stan’s pressured situation were swiftly ignored, talked over with strategies as the men began to argue among themselves what the best plan could be.

Kyle, who had addressed them rather than Stan, was quickly consulted.

“I reckon our defense ain’t strong enough to take chances. Best to have our best foot forward. Wanna see that ball travel, that’s what we want.”

Kyle’s opinion really didn’t matter, and neither did Stan’s. His face had settled on resignation as he sucked on his cherry coke.

 

Neither of them was particularly thrilled about the situation.

Stan looked pretty fed up with the situation but not in the offended way, more of a defensive kind. 

“We got the best offense in all of Colorado.” Kyle replied, sounding convinced, “As long as the defense stops something from scoring, we’re absolutely fine.”

That seemed to catch their unison agreement and they turned to discuss the enemy Cubs again, their players and coach as well as their fans.

Under the table, Kyle bumped his foot into Stan’s to catch his attention. He rolled his eyes when he had it and sent him a brief smile.

Hopefully these guys would leave soon and Stan could relax again.

 

Endurance was key. Stan knew that, Kyle could gather that. When their food arrived, the free pizza that had enticed Stan to come out in the first place, the gathering of football fans seemed to understand that they weren’t really welcome to hang out. They gave Stan tons of unnecessary advice and reminded him that the entire town would be watching and that, no pressure, no one had ever brought a state championship home to South Park.

Eventually, under the bored gaze of the waitress, the group shuffled over to their own booth, where they continued to loudly talk about football and strategies.

Stan stared at his pizza and at Kyle, before he leaned across the table.

“Let’s get it to go. I wanna be alone with you.”

 

The words were sweet, but Kyle felt the pressure on Stan behind them as if it was on his own shoulders. He nodded wordlessly and asked the unhappy waitress to wrap their food before he paid for everything, without complaining about Stan’s double-serving of buffalo wings and blue-cheese-sauce.

They made it back to the Jeep, arms full of food and Stan got them somewhere just out of South Park on an empty site used for camping in summer.

The place was higher up and had a nice view on the town below them. With most of the benches either looking gross or being broken, they made do with the hood of Stan’s beloved car.

“Was a good idea.” Kyle concluded, “To get here, I mean. People should just let you do your job, or do it better themselves. Can’t believe they  _ sat down _ at our table! WIthout even asking!”

 

Stan couldn’t help but remember all the previous times he and Kyle had been bothered at a diner. Fuck, he could pull the receipts, the pictures that people took with him. He could guarantee that there would be an unhappy Kyle in a corner.

Today?

Today, Kyle had been right there with him and understood that it meant too much to Stan for him to ignore. That this was his life, and the things people said about him mattered. To a degree. He’d learned that from Craig, really, to limit what impact people could have on your life.

But nevermind Craig right now, this was all about Kyle. Who deserved every best friend award in the world right now, because he finally understood Stan.

Stan dipped another wing deeply into sauce before taking a hearty bite, his appetite restored.

“I thought you were gonna bust out Kyley-B when he called you that Broflovski boy. Kinda disappointed you didn’t.” It was the gentlest jab that Stan could think of.

 

Kyle rolled his eyes, but chuckled nonetheless.

“I’m kinda glad my sleeves were saved this time. Though that guy definitely was muff cabbage, just saying.”

He stuffed pizza into his mouth and chewed, shoulder to shoulder with Stan. After a few moments, Kyle risked a glance from the corner of his eyes over to his best friend. Stan apparently had relaxed again and Kyle felt himself calm down, too.

“Think they changed something about the pizza.” Kyle stated, taking a bite from the cheese crust specifically, “This tastes exactly like the pizza we went to eat on my eleventh birthday. Remember? The birthday where Cartman wasn’t invited and he got stuck in the bathroom window trying to climb in?”

 

“You mean your best birthday ever? You were so happy, you kinda cried in my arms. I’ll never forget it.” Stan reached for a piece of the pizza, wondering if he could freeze a moment in time, because he’d definitely choose right now for it.  He was calm, he was happy, and despite the undue reminder of certain expectations, he didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

Stan nibbled some pizza, but all he could taste was the buffalo wing. He stopped eating for a moment, looking out across South Park for a minute or so. The place was crazy, and it was barely what he’d consider home. And still, it was important. Stan had to think of the three days when Kyle was on his roadtrip and how empty the house next door had seemed. South Park would be without Kyle one way or another, and he didn’t like the thought of that.

“Maybe I should apply to Cali too.”

 

That had Kyle at a loss for words at first, the warm feeling in his chest, soft appreciation for his best friend’s lost-puppy-nature putting a smile on his face. He elbowed Stan.

“After tomorrow you’ll have offers from college all over the country. You won’t even have to apply.”

There was a pause in which they each grabbed a buffalo wing and met at the blue-cheese-dip. Kyle let Stan go first and continued.

“You’ll have better offers than Cali state, dude. You’re gonna make it big. I wanna be invited once you got that big seaside house you were on about. The one with the lagoon.”

At Stan’s dismissive little snort, Kyle grinned, then leaned against his best friend, knowing that Stan would support his weight.

“Hey, regardless of what happens… I wanna be your friend. Always. I love you and that’s just how it is, don’t think there’s much that can change that.”

 

Kyle’s words made buffalo wing stick to the back of Stan’s throat. Or was that a lump of emotional turmoil? In either case, he was speechless for the duration of Kyle’s sweet admittance.

He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that, he really didn’t. Stan moved an arm around his best friend, crushing Kyle against his shoulder in lieu of being capable of a vulcan mind-meld, because that’s how close he wanted to be Kyle right now.

“We’re always gonna be friends, Kyle. I love you too, dude. I wouldn’t give that up for all the football glory in the world.”

 


	25. Blood of a Lion [Stan&Craig]

He couldn’t feel the blood staining his jersey. He couldn’t feel the crack in the bones, the mushy quality of his chest or the heavy effort it required to breathe. All Stan Marsh could hear was the roar of the crowd, echoing infinitely inside of his skull. Every rise and fall of a cheering voice in the crowd was his to devour, his to appreciate.

The grit of the field beneath had turned into nothing but mud, and it clamored all over his white uniform. Stan was probably a vision of how filthy his sport could be, but he didn’t care. The mud and blood were badges of victory because he’d just scored the winning touchdown for the Park County Lions.

 

The reality of what he’d done was sinking in as slowly as sap. He tore off his helmet, shook loose his sweat and rain-soaked hair as he faced the crowd. The football remained on the ground where he’d thrown himself just moments ago. Stan’s helmet joined it there as he stretched out his arms, the disbelieving expression on his face stretching into an infinitely victorious grin.

The crowd reacted, rallying to the sight of him, revelling in his glory. Their cheers changed from an incomprehensible victory roar to a chant.

 

_Lions! Lions! Lions!_

 

He felt like a gladiator who had slain a beast and now stood triumphant before his euphoric fans. Maybe that’s why he felt like he needed to address them.

“I’m immortal!” He laughed as he shouted, positive that no one could hear him at all. It didn’t matter, they stomped their feet and screamed his name and in this moment, Stan was their god.

“Are you not entertained?!” He waved for the crowd to cheer louder as he spun around, living in his moment of glory. This was everything. This was worth living for.

_Marsh! Marsh! Marsh!_

Stan laughed, relieved, hysterical, a man risen to the glory of the gods. He did it. The first of his teammates reached him, embraced him, shouted their approval, drowning Stan in their uproar of celebration as they lifted their quarterback up onto their shoulders. They did it.

State Champions.

 

* * *

 

 

The ring was kind of gaudy.

Stan hadn’t taken it off at all. He knew he should. His skin was itching and aching under the thick band, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. A year. Two. Three. How many nights had he spent, thinking that this ring would bring himself the ultimate validation?

Now that he had it, it sat there, looking back at him, gold, heavy, declaring him a State Champion in tepid reality. It was almost a little sad, to think that it changed so little. It didn’t have any inherent magic of fixing Stan’s life.

Actually, everything seemed overwhelmingly normal. His body was still sore from the game, his limbs grateful for bed and resentful when he swung his legs over the side to sit up.

He couldn’t hear anyone else in the house, so that probably meant he was alone.

 

His alarm told him that it was two in the afternoon. He’d slept pretty long, then, since he only had three hours left before he had  to leave for the party. The party in his team’s honor. They’d all been sort of drunk last night too, completely high on their victory, but that was hardly enough to mark their place in history. The whole town had thrown an event together. Stan hadn’t really concerned himself with it, but even his mom had a hand in organising it. She and the others had taken over the community center.

The whole town would come out to celebrate the football team. There was no chance that Stan wouldn’t go.

 

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Craig had walked over here, from the other side of town, to enjoy the spring weather but also to maybe get rid off the soreness in all of his body. The match yesterday had truly been the hardest one they’d ever played, but there was a chance it just felt like that because it was supposed to be the hardest one so far. He closed his hand around the ring in his pocket, but left it there for now. Putting it on yesterday, on sweaty skin, had already given him a rash on his finger and he’d have to wear it later on anyway.

Besides, Craig wasn’t one of these guys that treasured the ring. For all he cared, they could have gotten a glass of milk and some cookies for their triumph. They were State Champions anyway and nobody could take that away.

Living without the constant pressure, without training nearly every day was something he was going to get used to, but knowing Stan, his boyfriend didn’t survive long without touching balls.

Craig grinned to himself about his own stupid joke as he waited for the door to open.

He pulled the hand out of the pocket just when the door opened. Stan looked like he’d just fallen out of bed, with messy hair and his cheeks rosy.

 

“Morning, sleepyhead. State Champion. Star QB.” Craig greeted amiably before closing the distance between them to pull Stan against him for a soft kiss.

 

That was a greeting that Stan was getting used to. Not the titles, but the kissing. It was nice. God, it was so nice. Craig stood on his porch, cold and smelling like a brisk, spring morning. He tasted like smoke and soda and it was both awful and wonderful. Stan’s arms landed on Craig’s neck, pulling him against his own, warm body.

“Hey,” he muttered softly against Craig’s lips. He should probably let his boyfriend into the quiet house, but Stan was fully indulgent, now that the pressure had dropped off of his shoulders like a weight.

 

Craig was happy to just stand there, in the Marsh house’s door, his boyfriend squeezed against him, flicking his tongue against Stan’s lips, hands roaming over a broad back.

He’d made sure to smoke when he left and drink the can of lemon soda after in order to not make it too gross for Stan. It seemed to work, his boyfriend wasn’t complaining. Instead, he decided to pull him inside at some point and Craig stretched an arm out to close the door behind him.

Stan was warm and pliant and for once he was the one with the jogging pants on and Craig rocking the slim-fit jeans. The loose waistband of Stan’s worn-out pants was too much temptation, Craig was unable to resist to let his fingers trace it, occasionally sliding his fingertips between fabric and skin.

Only when Stan finally moved, Craig looked up, realizing they weren’t in any private room here, not yet.

“Uh, your family not home?”

 

“No. Nice of you to check after groping me. Fuck, your hands are cold. Come on.”

Stan wasn’t dressed yet, really, but he saw no reason to be. They had three hours. The ring was still on his hand as he lead Craig into the kitchen, loosely pulling him by the hand.

“You eat? I just got up...fuck, I never sleep this long.”

The fact that they could be using the empty house for something more intimate than Stan pouring himself cereal was lost on him.

 

Craig followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while his boyfriend shovelled cereal into his mouth.

Unlike Stan, as soon as he heard that they were home alone, Craig’s train of thought decided to take that one-track-route that came automatically with parents-out situations.

“Yeah, had some toast. Didn’t wake up very early either, got pretty late yesterday.” Also, everything still ached. Speaking of, Craig probably just had the best spontaneous idea ever.

As casually as possible, he gave Stan a once-over.

“You sore as fuck too? Feels like I slept on a rock or some shit. Anyway, I thought maybe you’d want a massage. I’m pretty good.”

A white lie, Craig wasn’t good at massaging. Tweek had complained all the time about him doing things too hard or the wrong way. At least the memory didn’t hurt anymore, there was just some melancholy. By the third time Craig had attempted to massage him, Tweek had already understood that he had ulterior motives and asked him to just say so.

“Up for it?” Craig had walked over to the kitchen table and put his hands on Stan’s shoulders, gently squeezing the muscles there. He couldn’t wait for the thin shirt to be off of him.

 

Stan nearly snorted out some Crunchy Nuts. Craig’s touch wasn’t all that hard, but what sort of line was that? A massage? That was the sort of tactic that guys with less than stellar looks had to use on the cheerleaders in order to get what was thrown at Stan, frequently, for free.

Craig was kind of transparent, once you knew him. Stan liked that. Having a complicated boyfriend would require a lot more personal time invested in studying all of his likes and dislikes, his habits, everything. Stan liked that it wasn’t like that with Craig. They just got each other, there were no hidden layers.

Maybe that was a perk of dating someone whose life wasn’t much different to your own.

“I mean, I am sore. Did you bring some oil? Am I getting a full happy ending?”

 

“So many questions.” Craig answered, playfully offended and crossed his arms, stepping back in order to let Stan get up and put the bowl away.

No, he didn’t have oil but Stan had a mom and an older sister, they were bound to have some sort of oil somewhere in the bathroom! There was no issue at all, as long as he got Stan to go to his room.

While he had no problem with undressing Stan and manhandling him onto the bed, he was a bit too heavy and too strong to wrestle up the stairs.

“Is that a yes or a no, babe? I gotta get my zen out and stuff.” Craig kept his face deadpan, but when Stan snorted, he had to chuckle as well, herding his boyfriend out of the kitchen.

 

“You’re a lot less smooth than I remember. Did you get tackled too much last night?” Stan was still kind of laughing as they made their way upstairs, to his room. He didn’t know what he was going to wear later, and he didn’t care. This was the first moment of time where he could speak to someone very directly involved with the events of the game without being interrupted for pats on the back.

Stan didn’t really care about the oil, either. He didn’t close his bedroom door out of whim. No one was home. No reason to.

Instead, he pulled Craig’s hand into his own to inspect it.

“Hey. You’re not wearing it.”

 

With the other hand, Craig reached into his pocket and produced the ring, wiggling his middle finger at his boyfriend (for once, not with hateful intention), showing off the reddened skin where the ring had sat yesterday.

“Cheap shit. Nickel allergy. I’ll put it on later.”

He reached for Stan’s hand with the ring on it. “Looks good on you.”

Stan’s small smile at that was real and infectious.

“Earlier, I was wondering what to do without the pressure, it’s kinda a phantom thing at this rate. Then I remembered I have three hours before the party and a hot boyfriend on the other side of town.”

Craig sent Stan a suggestive glance, then continued to talk.

“I thought maybe we could spend this time alone without his parents in a fun way. Like, talking endlessly about the game and such.” He offered Stan a smirk and was full-on prepared for the incoming punch he had earned.

 

The punch didn’t land in his face, credit to Stan’s self-control. It ended with his fist in Craig’s stomach, satisfied when it made his smug, terrible boyfriend choke ever so slightly.

“Are you looking down on the biggest achievement of our lives already, Tucker? That’s really bad for team morale. As captain, I absolutely won’t stand for it.” Stan wasn’t shy about this stuff anymore. Their flirting, when they were alone, ranged from flipping each other off to straight up insults, followed by the sweetest kisses and hand-holding known to humankind. It was a rollercoaster, but both of them were enjoying the ride.

“As punishment, I’m gonna hold you to your word; my back is extra sore from carrying your ass through the last quarter.”

 

“Time for me to return a favour to your ass then.” Craig retorted, the smirk he lost from getting gut-punched returning as he reached around his boyfriend’s body and went for his butt, delivering a squeeze to firm cheeks with both hands.

“Biggest achievement of my life is dating you, I’m pretty sure.” He muttered into Stan’s ear before placing a small kiss on the shell of it.

Stan smelled like bed and a little bit like shampoo from the shower he had undoubtedly taken before sleeping.

 

Craig’s words were the punch Stan wasn’t expecting, and his heart was the pummeled target. Did he mean those words? That was some of the sweetest anything that Stan had ever heard. His stupidly soft heart was already melting in Craig’s presence, butt squeezing or no.

“Dude, I’m...shit, you got me there.” Stan didn’t fight the compliment, but he did press a kiss to Craig’s jaw, before he peeled himself out of his arms and threw himself on the bed. It groaned louder than he did. At his mass and size, the impact was nothing to shrug at.

“Back. And not just the butt.”

 

They didn’t have any oil, but at this rate, Craig was pretty sure Stan was well aware of the idea behind the massage.

He followed Stan to the bed and rid him off his shirt, but kept the loose old pants on. Now that things were clear, he could be a bit slower about this. Since Stan was looking at him expectantly, over his shoulder, Craig took his shirt off and pulled the undershirt over his head as well, just for show.

“And here I thought you wanted me to massage your bountiful bosom, oh mighty quarterback.” Craig commented as he went and straddled Stan’s ass. His hands weren’t cold anymore, luckily, when he pressed them to his boyfriend’s shoulders, squeezing and rubbing the aching muscles.

He wasn’t particularly good, but Craig was taking his sweet time to work himself over the whole of Stan’s back. The small groans and sighs from Stan were music to his ears and to his dick as well, but it was still possible to keep it under control. Until he reached the waistband of Marsh’s pants once again, hooking his fingers into it to finally, _finally_ , reveal the smooth curve of his ass.

Craig couldn’t help it, he leaned down and kissed him, right on the left cheek. He enjoyed splaying his fingers over both globes and deliberately squeezing them, a pleased noise escaping him at the feeling.

“Ass massages are my specialty. Outside and inside actually. You still want that happy ending, babe?” It was a stupid question to ask. Craig was growing hard pretty quickly and he would bet his beloved Nintendo Switch that Stan was, too.

 

Craig _was_ surprisingly good at massaging the ache out of his back. Deft fingers didn’t hesitate to press hard on the sore muscles and Stan couldn’t help the moans of relieved pain. Even though he’d had a whole night to sleep off the strain of the game. But hell, holding up the entire town’s expectations had been a gargantuan task in itself.

When Craig got to his ass, however, all pretense of innocent comfort and meaningless touches was gone. Stan could feel his dick twitch, rapidly informing him that this could turn into a much more fun situation, if he was so inclined. Stan craned his neck to look over his shoulder, watching Craig literally kiss his ass. It was stupid, but also hot, because Stan remembered some other things that Craig had done to him like this.

“Yeah. Yeah I do,” he was pretty quick to answer that question. And even if he wasn’t, the hitch in his breath was a pretty vital clue.

 

Craig’s kiss lingered at the answer, before he pressed more kisses to warm skin. That one evening in Token’s bathroom (yeah, the guy still didn’t know about that and wouldn’t ever) had only been the first time. Since they had gotten together only a few weeks ago, Craig had repeated his ministrations to Stan’s ass plenty of times and his boyfriend revelled in that particularly. They hadn’t talked about it, really, talking wasn’t either of their strengths, but Craig always turned to this method if he wanted to make him come particularly hard.

His tongue on sensitive skin wouldn’t be the only thing he’d make use of to get Stan off, though, especially not now that they were alone, the deciding match behind them.

Not that he really wanted to think about it (mainly because even only thinking about not wanting to think about it made his dick twitch with interest), but Craig was down to fuck, all the way.

If Stan wanted to, of course.

He looked up. “Hand me the lube, babe.”

 

“Holy shit. Wait, how do you know I have... Nevermind.” Stan was breathless and maybe a little red in the face, but he was absolutely down with what Craig had in mind. Just the memory of how good Craig's tongue felt was enough to rev Stan up, but now, the fortuitous circumstance of them being home alone came hand in hand with the memory of what Craig had offered the night before yesterday. Stan had been too nervous then, but the burden of expectation was gone now.

“Here,” Stan reached under his pillow and tossed the tube at Craig. It was almost as big as a forearm, but half-empty nonetheless.

“Cherry.” Because Craig was probably going go be tasting it, sooner or later.

 

“I would’ve been thoroughly surprised if it was anything else.” Craig stated, chuckling as he squeezed some of the gooey substance onto his hand. It did fill the air with the smell of artificial cherry as Craig rubbed it between his fingers to warm it up. His other hand was gently smoothing over Stan’s ass before he used it to support his weight as he leaned over his boyfriend and kissed his back. The lubed-up hand was now there, sliding between his cheeks, finger pads resuming where Craig’s tongue had left off earlier.

Slipping a finger into Stan wasn’t new, he’d done it before, and yet Craig was, well, not nervous, but high-strung perhaps. Without having talked about it, they both agreed that stuff was going to happen that they hadn’t done before.

On top of that, finger-fucking his boyfriend was not something that left Craig Tucker cold, ever. He was too much into the way Stan arched his back, how his breath hitched and how, after a short period of acclimatization, he moved into him ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” Craig cursed, voice heated, “You’re so fucking hot, baby.”

 

“Do you say that to all the boys you finger, or just me?” Stan breathed, trying to chuckle and failing at anything more than a breathy moan. It felt good, if he just ignored every tiny, unreasonable doubt that he had about this situation. Craig was careful, never too rough. Despite his callous expressions and cold demeanour, Craig Tucker was pretty sensitive to the needs of others.

Especially when he had his finger inside. Stan’s dick ached, ignored until now, and very hard indeed. Stan squirmed his hips and moved his hand down, palming himself with impatient eagerness.

“Good...that’s good. So good.” It was. Craig’s single finger quickly became two, and he began to move them more quickly, curling and uncurling and Stan was living for it. He moaned, loud, fully aware that his door was open and the house empty.

 

Stan sounded amazing, but simultaneously gave Craig the most dire case of straining dick possible. It didn’t make him more patient, much the opposite, but he was set on preparing his boyfriend thoroughly, the goal of making him enjoy this stronger than any urge to fuck him right the second.

He ignored the ‘all the boys’ comment, because Stan was only the second one he did this to (third, if you counted yourself, which Craig purposefully didn’t).

“Good, yeah?” Craig asked, three fingers deep in Stan, aiming for that slight curl inside of him to rub him just the right way, “Good enough to come, huh?” He did want Stan to come. The relaxation that accompanied that would surely help them along to make this more enjoyable.

 

“Mhhm yeah, pretty good,” It was really fucking good. Stan was ten seconds out from spilling himself into his own hand, just because Craig had his fingers in his butt.

Stan had liked it before, had lost his mind over Craig’s tongue being in that place, but now? Now, it was the prelude to more, and Stan knew there was no reason to stop. There was no big game tomorrow, there was just him and Craig and a party in several hours. The world could go fuck off for a little bit.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come if you-fuck!”

Craig’s fingers brushed deep and Stan bucked his hips.

The more Stan moved, the more weight Craig pressed down on him, holding him in place, but gently so. During the past weeks, he had learned quickly that his boyfriend was a sucker for being handled, held, ever so slightly, but with determination and the mass and strength to back it up.

When he came and moaned out his pleasure into the pillow, Craig bore down on him with his own weight, holding him until he stilled, breathing heavily.

In the following silence, Craig leaned in, brought his lips to Stan’s ear and whispered his next words, voice full of adoration and dripping with desire.

“I want you, Stan, I want to be inside you so bad right now.” To emphasize his words, he removed his fingers and pressed his still clothed, but nevertheless very prominent erection against his boyfriend’s naked butt.

 

Stan felt a jolt of heat, despite the pleasant waves of his orgasm still washing through him. His hand was sticky from his own release, but all he could really feel was the hot weight of Craig’s dick, which was definitely ready to meet him. Was Stan ready for that? He knew exactly where this was going, and if he didn’t Craig’s words (which sent lightning coursing through his body) would have been enlightening. They were finally gonna go all the way with each other and it didn’t scare him anymore.

He did twist around though, dislodging Craig’s dick from his ass and meeting his eyes instead.

“Facedown fucking is for your birthday. We...we can do normal. Like this. I wanna see you. Right now. I want you, Craig. I want you bad.”

Was Craig into dirty talking? Stan would have to remember.

 

Stan’s words had sent liquid fire down Craig’s spine. Hastily, he pulled Stan’s pyjama pants off of him before he got up and rid himself off his own pants. It took a bit longer due to him still wearing socks and shorts, but once they were both naked, Craig was back on top of Stan like he couldn’t be apart from him any more seconds.

And it felt like that, for Craig, being close to Stan, physically, felt like a necessity by now. Craig didn’t think all things through, sometimes he just followed the feeling of his gut or parts of him even more down south than that.

Which was totally the case right now, he gave a pleased little nose when he allowed himself to press his hips against Stan’s finally getting some good pressure in for his neglected dick.

Stan’s lips were incredibly inviting and Craig didn’t resist at all and kissed him, heatedly, sloppily, until they were both panting from lack of oxygen and arousal.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” Craig downright purred when he finally pushed himself up and went for the lube.

Before grabbing it, he remembered that this was Stan’s first time. Sure, they’d done other stuff with each other’s bodies, but this was the buttsex first time. Anal deflowering, Craig had a whole arsenal of words for the process that he knew Stan surely wouldn’t like to hear right now.

He met Stan’s eyes. “Rubber?”

 

Stan was excited, alright. His body made a rapid recovery at the prospect of having actual sex, in the way that Craig liked to describe with the worst words possible. Craig was game for it too, pressing himself against Stan, all hot and heavy and unbearably attractive. Stan thought he was gonna melt when Craig’s tongue flicked out over his lip after their messy kiss.

God, how did he end up like this, again? Pinned under the hottest guy he knew, who, oh yeah, was also his boyfriend. Being gay had so many perks, Stan was willing to forget the downsides.

This right here? Huge perk.  

Craig’s question had him smirk, because it gave him just the right inspiration to please Craig’s indulgence for dirty talk. He didn’t know if gay porn was right for the terminology and all, but he suspected his boyfriend would absolutely not care.

“Nah. I want you to raw me, babe.”

 

The words took Craig’s breath away, literally, because it hitched audibly and his grip on Stan’s hips tightened momentarily, ice-blue eyes blazing with desire now.

“Fuck yeah.” He brought out, trying to regain control over his body that was inclined to give in to pleasure, already, just because Stan had said a thing. And what a thing, Craig was a sucker for this and an avid condom-avoider on top of that.

Instead of more talking though, he reached for one of Stan’s pillow, messily stuffing it under his boyfriend’s ass in order to elevate his hips ever so slightly. Out of experience, that made it all the easier to fuck in this position and Craig wasn’t wasting any time. Lots of cherry lube on him and on Stan as well as the thorough preparation did the trick. Craig forced himself to continue breathing as he pushed the first inch into his boyfriend, tight and hot and very convincingly enticing him to just let go straight away.

He knew how to resist, for both of their sake and instead watched Stan’s face.

 

It felt weird. That was the first thought that dared to cross Stan’s mind as he desperately tried to think of relaxing his body to whatever was happening. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Girls did this all the time. Maybe not with their butts, but Stan got the idea.

Craig was _huge._ Or maybe he just felt that way because it was Stan’s first time, but the hot, heavy weight of his dick was definitely a feeling Stan would never forget. But, all in all, he didn’t feel gross. Or super weird. Just like weird-new weird.

“Your face is all scrunched up. That tight, Tucker?”

Of course it was. Stan felt like Craig struggled with every inch, fighting Stan’s body to accept him. Stan could feel his legs quiver a little.

 

“At least you still comment on everything.” Craig brought out, voice mirroring the concentration in his face. Stan was unbelievably tight. He fought his body to get inside of him and his own body to not simply spill himself right here, right now, about two inches inside of his boyfriend.

“Can’t be that bad then, huh?” Strained, Craig held onto Stan’s hips more tightly. It was good to know Stan wasn’t hurting, otherwise he wouldn’t be making comments about his face.

A minute passed that felt like eternity to Craig until he was fully inside of his boyfriend. He allowed himself a second of just looking at Stan, spread out beneath him, his chest rising and falling faster than usual, face flushed, hair messy. He looked delectable and Craig’s desire spiked. He leaned over Stan as well as possible, hands on both of his sides.

“You’re fucking tight, Marsh. As expected from a virgin.” Craig cracked a tiny grin. When Stan raised his hands to push at him, he caught them easily and pinned them on the bed. At the same time, he moved his hips, pulling back and then pushing back into Stan, one, two, three times, eyes on Stan, burning up.

Craig moaned and moved his head, strands of his perfect hair coming loose and falling into his face.

 

Stan didn’t know what he should appreciate first. Craig’s movements, the devilishly handsome and undone look of his face right now or, you know, the dick being shoved inside. Stan had expected it to hurt. To feel weird and gross, but all he could get was a marginal sense of unusual discomfort and a much more perplexing greed for there to be more.

His back arched as he moved to meet Craig on his third thrust and an odd feeling spiked through his body. There was something about the way Craig sunk into him that was absurdly pleasant. Being pinned wasn’t bad either, because when Stan moved to fidget, he found himself held in place by a lot of Center.

Fuck. He never knew that he liked being pushed around so much. Well, he knew a little, thanks to Craig, but right now, he felt absolute, visceral pleasure, knowing Craig had the power to make him do anything.

“Fuck. You’re...fucking _huge_. Fuck, that’s going deep. I can feel you everywhere.”

 

“You’re supposed to.” Craig all but growled, pleasure clear in his tone and face, but his body was still well-controlled as he managed to steady his movements. The bed creaked rhythmically as he fucked Stan while pinning him to the mattress at the same time.

“I need you to feel me everywhere, babe. I’ll make you never forget this.”

Craig, true to his word, quickened the pace. He wouldn’t be able to hold on for too long, his body excited to the limit to finally be able to do this again, with Stan fucking Marsh of all people, but until then, he needed to make it good for both of them.

Craig didn’t care about the noises tumbling out of his mouth, he let go off Stan’s arms and wrapped his arms around his midsection instead, head bending down to rest his forehead on Stan’s chest. He couldn’t help it much, the way his thrusts became increasingly erratic, his determination to hold on running out quickly.

 

Craig was really getting into it, and Stan couldn’t blame him at all. It probably felt amazing from the other end too, but on his side, it was somewhere between uncomfortable and addicting. Every motion rattled him to the core, his fingers trembling as he ran them over Craig’s sides. Both of them were damp with sweat already and Stan could vaguely feel goosebumps on his skin. Was it cold? Or was it too hot? He couldn’t tell, the room was spinning as far away from him as the rest of the world.

Stan focused on the feeling inside of him. His legs fell open a little more, his fingers finding purchase of his boyfriend’s skin. Maybe he was making a few red marks, but that served Craig right. Stan wanted him to remember this just as much. The fast pace of his breath and the demanding push and shove of Craig’s thrusts robbed Stan of the ability to talk his way through this, which was probably a good thing, because Craig, somehow, brushed the right parts of Stan’s insides. He did nothing short of howl for a second.

“Oh my god. _Oh my god_ , again, that, again, Craig, please!” a breathless Stan demanded, blue eyes hazy with lust.

 

Albeit short on breath and mind coursing with lust, Craig managed to smirk against sweaty skin and focused on following Stan’s request with the last of his resources.

“Fuck, Stan, _fuck_ …!” Craig cursed, grabbing his boyfriend’s hips, pinning him down and bringing his upper body up again so he could look at him, pushing into him with abandon.

He felt Stan twitch and attempt to buck against him, but his hands were merciless, holding him in place, for Craig to do as he pleased. Stan moaned, looked gorgeous the way he slowly lost himself in the sensation and Craig wanted to keep watching him forever.

“Beg again, baby, a-and I’ll fill you up straight away.” Craig warned, breathless.

 

“We-we don’t want that?” Stan had a hard time talking. His dick was trapped between them, untouched but not lonely. Stan couldn’t even manage to think about touching it right now, he’d completely lose his shit if he did.

That feeling that Craig managed to evoke, he couldn’t forget either. It was amazing, even better than getting his dick sucked or his ass eaten. It was deep and profound and Stan needed Craig to pound it into his body until it exploded Stan’s senses.

“I want you to...I want you right there, it felt so good.” He whispered, excited and grasping at Craig’s hips. He wanted to get fucked, right into oblivion. Maybe this was the holy grail of being gay, that amazing sensation that Stan wanted to chase now.

 

Craig groaned, unable to resist the tempting offer for the second before he managed to gather his last little bit of resolve and attempted to aim at hitting that spot again.

It didn’t take too long, simply because Stan was writhing by now, looking like his perfect gay fantasy come true, really.

“Stan… ley…” Craig brought out, right before he lost himself in pleasure, moaning and spilling himself inside of Stan, hips pressed to his boyfriend’s.

 

Stan clung to the edge of something amazing for a couple of seconds, but it slipped away as something hot and pliant filled him instead. Holy shit. He knew what that was, obviously, he just never thought he could actually feel it like that. His chest was heaving, his arms falling limply to his sides as he laughed, breathless.

“You just...Craig, did you just say that and come? Jesus Christ.”

Stan felt great, and he’d tasted something intoxicating when Craig pushed into him as hard as he could. He wanted to feel it again, as soon as possible, but right now, he had a panting boyfriend who was actually red in the face.

“I can feel it, you know. It’s...hot.” He grinned, eyes still a little blurry and his ears full of rushing blood.

 

Craig tried to catch his breath, vision spinning slightly, mind trying to comprehend what was going on. His face was heated was the first thing he noticed and a quick rub over it with one hand didn’t help that. At least it got the stray strands out of his eyes. Pleasure was coursing inside of him, telling his body that collapsing on top of Stan was a good idea. Craig didn’t, instead finally managed to grin at his boyfriend ever so lightly.

“Holy fuck. I just creampied you and you’re into it, _fuck_.” Craig made a tentative little thrust, but his dick was getting soft quickly and so he pulled out.

Stan’s face distorted at the sensation and Craig grinned, slightly apologetically. “Sorry about that.” He did collapse, at last, but next to Stan, arms coming around him, head on the same pillow as he looked at his boyfriend, eyes filled with soft affection.

“You felt amazing, baby.”

 

He felt hollow without Craig’s dick. That was an entirely disconcerting thought and Stan shoved it aside quickly so that he could lean in and press a kiss to Craig’s sweaty forehead.

“So did you. Holy shit. I didn’t realize it was gonna feel like that. So good, so right, I felt like my head was gonna explode, but in this super good way.”

Stan was still painfully hard and he could feel himself twitch all over. His eyes wandered down to Craig’s dick, which looked very inviting, even if it was soft right now. Stan’s hand was on it before he could even think about what he was doing.

“Do...you think you have another round in you? I didn’t really get enough of your dick yet, baby.”

 

Craig’s comment got stuck in his throat and he stared at Stan, wide-eyed. He’d experienced a lot of gay things, but seconds had been excruciatingly rare with Tweek (who’d let himself be convinced for another round once in a blue moon). Here was Stan though, desire clear in his blue eyes, his dick still hard and currently pressed against Craig’s thigh. The situation alone, the lust emanating from his boyfriend, sped up his recovery to a point where he slowly but surely grew hard again under Stan’s nimble fingers on his dick.

“F-fuck, you’re _insatiable_.” Craig stated, but it wasn’t a joke, it was true admiration.

 

Stan didn’t laugh, but the grin tugged at his lips nonetheless. Craig had no idea what kind of ‘appetite’ Stan could work up. Not that he blamed his boyfriend for it, their previous engagements had kind of taken precedence over every instance of getting intimate. Now, nothing stood in their way and Stan was free to pursue that amazing feeling Craig had touched upon inside of him.

“Just stay like this,” Stan pushed Craig back so that he was sprawled out in bed, his hand still on his dick, which was very happy to reacquaint itself with him. Stan bit his lip, smirking as Craig watched him, full of surprise and anticipation.

“You don’t have to do a thing.”

With new determination, Stan hoisted a leg over Craig to straddle him, grasping his straining flesh again and pressing it back into himself. Stan held his breath, but it went inside with startling ease. And then, he was sinking down on it. It knocked the breath out of Stan and he had to brace himself on Craig’s chest.

 

“Y-you’re ki-kidding me…!” Craig’s voice cracked audibly, both with disbelief and with his body still coursing on earlier pleasure stimulated once more, “Oh, _fuuck, Stan_!”

He pressed his head back into the pillow, not caring about his hair getting in his face this time, instead placing his hands on trained thighs and holding on for his dear life.

Craig’s eyes were still cloudy with lust, he was most definitely on the stairway to heaven here, no doubt. His whole body was alight with sensation, Stan’s hands on his chest grounded him.

“ _Babe_ …” Craig all but breathed, sounding like he still couldn’t believe what was happening to him, eyes focused on Stan, “Just...” _use me_ , “move, please, babe, you feel _amazing._ ”

 

“Mhm,” Stan agreed with that sentiment, and even more so with the sight before him. Watching Craig Tucker come undone was worth any amount of cherry lube and discomfort. This was bliss, and it would only get better. This time around, Stan had to put in the work, and as he lifted up and pushed back down onto Craig, a deep moan escaped him. It felt so, so good. He wanted to do this every day, for the rest of their days. He didn’t care what happened after, this was his new drug.

“Craig,” he panted, desperate, eyes half-hooded and teeth in his own lip. His hips moved quicker and he snapped his head back, breathing hard and gasping out curses and litanies of his boyfriend’s name,

“Oh god, it’s so good, Craig!”

That spot that made stars bloom behind his eyelids was easier to find when he could adjust himself, and Stan rammed himself down on that cock when he did. The wail that broke out of his throat could be heard all the way through the house, but Stan heard nothing but the blood rushing through him.

 

“ _Holy shit_!” Craig moaned, trying his best to keep his eyes on his boyfriend who looked like some wet dream come true, throning on top of him and fucking himself eagerly on his dick.

He’d wondered about it, how things would be with Stan and how long it would take to convince him to let him put his dick inside of him, but this… this he hadn’t expected. Not in a million years would he have guessed that Stan Marsh was a buttboy through and through. Craig cursed and held onto Stan’s thighs. As his boyfriend’s breathing got more labored, Craig assisted him helpfully by bucking his hips and grabbing his waist. Now that he’d come once already, Craig was dead set on keeping this going until Stan finally reached his climax on his dick, hands-free so to say.

“God, yes, fuck yourself like that, Stan!” He brought out, eyes wandering over his boyfriend’s fantastic body only to get stuck on where they were currently joined. “You really make me wanna come again, baby, just for you.”

 

Holy Christ, Craig liked to talk. Stan would have laughed if he wasn’t so devastatingly busy, doing exactly what he was told, fucking himself like a desperate...something. He didn’t have time to think about it all, and he didn’t want to, because he felt good right now and he’d come really good in just a few seconds, depending on how true Craig’s befuddled aim was.

Stan groped around for Craig’s hands, arching his back as his hips moved into Craig’s rhythm and he really couldn’t keep quiet anymore. Craig was right on the money, hitting that spot that made Stan see stars and he couldn’t hold on any longer.

The wild ride didn’t last for long, but it certainly did the trick. Stan cried out and came, right there and then, spilling himself on Craig and himself as his body twitched and froze. It felt so beyond good that Stan wasn’t sure where he ended and Craig began.

“I love you,” he gasped as soon as he could do something other than praise non-existent gods for how good Craig’s dick felt inside of him.

Stan leaned down and grabbed Craig’s face, kissing him so hard he might have split a lip. His or Craig’s, he didn’t know.

 

Gasping, Craig returned the kiss sloppily, bucking his hips through his own climax. His brain had shut down somewhere between Stan coming from just his dick up his ass and Stan telling him he loved him. Just like that.

Craig kept on kissing him, wrapped his arms around Stan, holding him in place.

He wasn’t really the type for saying cheesy things all the time, but he wanted to at least show Stan in some form that he did feel for him as well.

Peppering Stan’s neck with kisses was his choice of expression.

“You’re such a good fuck, damn, Marsh.” He said with a small grin against sweaty skin, “I mean, not that I didn’t think you’d be, just… _wow._ ”

 

“Thanks.” Stan sounded far more recovered than he was, especially so shortly after what he could explain as a mind-blowing, life-altering experience. He slumped a little, letting Craig slide out of him for the second time that day. This time, he was spent as he let himself drop down onto Craig’s arm.

“I didn’t know it would be so good.”

He didn’t know a lot of things, but trying them out with Craig was definitely in his future. Their bodies were kind of too warm and sweaty and messy, but Stan had never been more comfortable in his life as he pressed a kiss to Craig’s bicep.

 

Craig made sure to let Stan rest on his arm and put another lazy arm around him as he turned towards his boyfriend, kissing his shoulder.

“It’s cause you’re an omega.” Craig whispered to him, lovingly, but with the fattest grin ever spotted on his face as he caught onto the theory Stan’s dad spread around town these days.

 

“I’m gonna punch you in the dick so hard,” Stan whispered back, pressing another kiss to Craig’s arm.

The response was a tiny snort from Craig and strong arms wrapping more tightly around him.

 

 


	26. Fine Again [Everyone]

“Can you smell my breath?” 

Stan’s hand landed on Craig’s knee before he could turn to open the passenger door. They’d been sitting in the parking lot for at least five minutes, talking, laughing, procrastinating. It was a party for the entire team, but the captain was bound to get a special mention. And now that he was firmly involved with his Center, they’d be treated as a couple.

Which meant everyone was bound to know exactly what they’d been up to. Stan was firmly convinced that his breath smelled like dick and his entire exterior looked like a buttfucked boy. The shower couldn’t have washed everything away, could it?

 

Craig leaned in, incapable of hiding the mischief in his eyes as he sniffed and then declared with certainty, “Dick, definitely.”

At Stan’s falling face, he laughed and swatted his hand against his boyfriend’s chest. 

“Hey, don’t pout like that.” Craig went for the grab onto Stan’s shirt and pulled him in to place a kiss on his lips, “You pouting makes me want to change something about your breath not smelling like dick, okay? So don’t.”

Another kiss, then Craig went for the door and finally got out of the car. They had to show up at some point; why not just get it over with right now?

Stan caught up to him and Craig snaked an arm around his waist. He’d be shaken off for sure, but that was just how it went between them. It would take some time for Marsh to be fully comfortable with it.

 

Craig’s expectations would be disappointed by Stan’s tolerance of his arm. Why not show up like the couple they were now? If Stan could handle Craig’s dick, he could handle a few looks and maybe some chuckles.

It wouldn’t matter today.

They were goddamn champions.

 

“Play your cards right and you might end up giving me dickbreath tonight anyway.”

Stan snuck a kiss to Craig’s cheek and the two of them walked into the community center. They weren’t the last to arrive, but enough people had assembled to collectively cheer.

 

Stan had to endure a row of people wanting to pat him on the back and look at the ring, but this was the kind of attention he could absolutely suffer through for an entire night.

The rest of the team gave him high fives and gentle jabs about arriving like a damn princess at the ball and Stan, for once, loved all of it.

 

But nothing lit up his face like spotting Kyle, in Tweek’s company, milling by the punch.

 

“Dude! I need you, right now.” Stan dragged Craig over, but immediately aimed to steal a moment with Kyle, taking him by the arm and dragging him to a quiet corner. It left Tweek and Craig in the uncomfortable position of keeping each other company, and Tweek could feel his eye twitch and his hand shake.

 

They hadn’t really talked since...a while ago. That Friday night, specifically, when Tweek called an end to their relationship. He was quiet, awkward, fiddling with the patches on his jacket.

 

Craig hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic about showing his ring around, the damn thing was itching on his finger already and he didn’t get nearly as many requests about showing it as Stan did. Not that he cared, he could happily find enthusiasm in busying his mind with the lighthearted prospect of sex in the near future courtesy of his boyfriend.

Until Stan spotted Broflovski, bolted over to him and left Craig alone with the only other person he actually wasn’t impassive about at this party.

 

So far, he’d been able to resist the itch of his finger, but with the sudden change of situation and Tweek looking like he was about to burst into a fit of nervous paranoia, Craig forgot to tell himself he wasn’t supposed to scratch.

 

“Thought you didn’t like football.” Craig said, voice and face his usual deadpan. He forced his hands to sink down to his sides, but his thumb kept fiddling with the ring, trying to get it to at least somehow scratch along the rash it was causing.

 

“It’s not so bad to watch. More interesting than baseball.” Tweek was grateful that Craig had started talking at all, but he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable notion that things were just not settled between them.

His eyes wandered to the ring on Craig’s hand, the very same that he kept fiddling with. The skin around it was already angrily red.

“Can I see it? Just for a minute?”

 

He had an idea, and thought nothing more of it. When Craig handed him the ring, Tweek took one of the leather bands on his keychain and belt off, threading the ring through it and tying a knot into the band. He handed it back to Craig.

 

“There. Now you can wear your lion pride without killing your finger.”

 

For a moment, Craig eyed the ring on the leather band in his hand like it was some ancient amulet from some video game.

The gesture was entirely casual by nature, only the circumstances around it made it what Craig thought it to be: a symbol of sorts. Of what, he didn’t really know just yet, he wasn’t that good at reading people in general, even if he knew Tweek well. Or thought he did, anyway.

He put it around his neck, the metal of the ring now safely on his shirt and not in contact with his skin anymore.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Confused was probably a good way of describing his current state. Tweek had returned to fiddling with his patches.

“You’ll get them to fall off one day.”

The conversation was weird, just a succession of facts put together awkwardly. A perfect representation of the two of them.

For a few cruel seconds, Craig found pleasure in watching Tweek fiddle even more as the pressure on the guy no doubt rose in his head. But had Craig been angry and disappointed for a long while with Tweek, he was now kind of mellowed out, not at least thanks to Marsh and his perfect ass.

He decided to relieve his ex of some of his nervous tics.

 

“Broflovski into that? The whole metal stuff?”

 

“Uh, I think so,” So they were going to talk about Kyle? Did that mean Stan was also game? Tweek didn’t really know how to navigate the treacherous waters of this conversation, but he knew he’d have to find some way to ease his own tension. If only so that he could find the courage to apologize to Craig for the pain he’d caused.

 

“Kyle’s kind of into anything if I do it right. He likes my music, I think.”

 

He suppressed a tiny smile. Kyle was into metal alright, as long as Tweek made all the right moves to make it worth his while.

 

“You look...really good. With Stan.”

 

It was an olive branch, extended very, very carefully. Tweek dared to go further.

 

“You look happy.”

 

Craig’s insides didn’t really know how to process the statements coming out of Tweek’s mouth. While they did make some leftover anger bubble up, the notion was quickly suppressed by one, Tweek’s courage to say something like this and two, he actually was right.

 

“That’s because I am.” The once more he didn’t have to add, it came across between the lines.

 

“Are you?”

 

“Yeah,” Tweek answered quickly, cursing himself a little for his blunt honesty. Craig never really looked as if he was completely fine with Tweek having moved on, and maybe he wouldn’t appreciate having it rubbed in his face either.

 

The fiddling continued, though Tweek managed to recover from his hasty answer.

“Kyle is very nice. I’m happy I managed to ask him out. I mean, I thought for a while that he was just substituting because he couldn’t date Stan because Stan wasn’t gay but now that he’s gay and Kyle is still with me I think I managed to sway him over to my side. He’s a great boyfriend, but he had a lot to live up to, I mean, you really spoiled me for other guys, you were always really good to me. Maybe a little bit too good. You treated me with lots of care but it’s not the same, you know, the spark wasn’t really there. Or maybe it just wasn’t for me. There’s lots of sparks with Kyle. We literally had sex in front of fireflies. It was insanely cheesy and good. ”

 

Aaaand he was rambling. Tweek sucked in a deep breath.

 

“Sorry. For that word vomit. And...well, here goes. I am really, really sorry Craig. About the way I broke up with you. I hurt you, and I really didn’t mean to. I don’t really deserve any slack from you, but maybe, if you can, in the future, forgive me for it, I would really appreciate it.”

 

Craig endured the monologue with patience, his eyes on Tweek, expression unmoving for the most part.

Hearing that Broflovski was into Marsh wasn’t new, he knew about that, but it sparked jealousy ever so slightly in him. Hearing, however, about Tweek getting it on with someone else left him, surprisingly, cold.

 

“The spark, huh?”

He said when Tweek was done, thinking about it. The apology he took without a comment. Now that it was there, he didn’t know what to say to it and instead focused on something else.

 

Craig thought about how Marsh and he had crashed his dad’s car. Their nights in the cabin, awkward evenings with their families. KFC and cherry coke. Stan’s ocean blue eyes and the way they made him feel.

 

“Yeah, I think I know what you’re on about.” Craig shrugged, then raised a hand and dropped it on Tweek’s shoulder. That got his ex to look at him, skittish still, but hope in his eyes. Craig could be an ass, but not to people he cared about and, despite everything, he still cared about Tweek.

“Guess you weren’t that wrong after all. Wouldn’t have Marsh now if you hadn’t, you know, taken that step.”

 

Tweek said nothing for a moment, but he fully understood Craig’s meaning. He was accepting his apology. Wholeheartedly accepting it, in full Craig Tucker fashion, by sort of glazing over it and agreeing with Tweek.

 

It took a burden off of Tweek’s shoulders and he felt twenty pounds lighter. He put his hand over Craig’s on his shoulder, squeezing it gently as he smiled at him.

 

“I can’t believe you don’t call your boyfriend by his first name. Have you been calling me Tweak all that time instead of Tweek?” He was fully aware that his first and last name sounded absolutely the same. Tweek had a sense of humor, after all.

 

That had a smile tug on Craig’s lips, one he couldn’t really hide and didn’t want to anyway.

“What if I did? Broflovski’s dad gonna sue me?”

 

He chuckled and went for the punch, filling two cups and handing one to Tweek. “Besides, I called him by his first name just a few hours ago. When he let me creampie him.”

 

Might as well brag a bit about it, right?

 

Tweek was absolutely ready for Craig to be Craig, but he nearly choked on his punch anyway. He took a second to make sure he didn’t die before eyeing Craig.

 

“I always thought he’d be a bottom. He has that cute nose.”

Might as well play at his game, if they were going to keep talking like this. It was certainly easier than anything else. Tweek glanced around, but Stan and Kyle were whispering to each other and laughing and being entirely too cute to look away from.

 

“I think we both did alright.”

 

Craig followed the glance over and nodded. Stan looked slightly embarrassed, entirely too tempting right now and Broflovski was apparently telling him something very important, because he was counting his fingers as he spoke.

 

“Think so, yeah. I destroyed Marsh’s heterosexuality and you Broflovski’s ass. Well done us.”

 

Craig took a large swig of punch. Tweek had definitely been right, Stan was totally worth it.

 

Tweek chuckled, taking a deep gulp of the punch. There was more for him to do tonight than this, but talking to Craig was definitely the most important thing.

 

“Hey, Craig? If you want to...I mean...I kind of miss hanging out with you. Do you think that’s something we can do? I know you’re busy with your hot boyfriend now, but...I dunno. I miss trashtalking things with you. Kyle hates talking during movies.”

 

It was another tentative olive branch, but this one was fishing for friendship. If Craig rejected it, that would be fine too, Tweek was already more than satisfied with the acceptance of his apology.

 

This time around, Craig actually looked surprised. Not something that happened usually, even when he was surprised, but the request kind of caught him off-guard. Seemed like Broflovski was giving him quite the boost in confidence.

 

“Sure.” He said. It was a no-brainer really, especially thinking about that cold half an hour in the woods where he’d thought this would never ever happen again.

“Spanish is pretty boring on the window side of the classroom, too.” Craig shrugged, “You wanna tell Alan to fuck off out of my seat or should I?” 

 

“I’ll do it. He’s been sticking gum under the table. That’s just asking for an ass-kicking, anyway.”

 

Tweek grinned. Maybe things were going to be okay between them, after all.

 

Stan and Kyle looked to finally be finished with their giggling corner and made their way back over. The way that Kyle looked at him made Tweek’s belly feel warm and pleasant and he almost didn’t hear the words coming out of his boyfriend’s mouth. A reminder of the thing that he still needed to do.

 

“Oh! Right! I gotta get going. See ya!”

 

He scuttled off to a side-door.

 

Stan blinked and looked at Craig in question.

 

“What was that about?”

 

Craig pulled Stan against him, an arm slung around his waist and drew him in for a kiss. Okay, maybe he was a bit relieved too that finally, things between him and Tweek looked up.

 

“The gig. He forgot about it.” Kyle stopped looking after his boyfriend and mustered Craig instead. He didn’t look anything different, but Tweek had seemed distinctly relieved. Like he’d finally gotten that talk with Craig he’d wanted since, well, they broke up.

Craig didn’t listen too much to Broflovski, he was all over Stan, wrapping his arms around him and pulling his boyfriend against him. Stan was in for a treat later on, that was for sure.

 

The crowd began to move as the lights went out and Jimmy announced the start of the evening program in honour of the PC Lions.

 

Gig?

 

Stan wasn’t too busy to listen, even if Craig was doing an exceptional job at distracting him. Why would Tweek be here if he had a gig somewhere? It was nice, but it didn’t seem like him. Of course he expected Kyle here, but Tweek?

 

He let it go easily though as Jimmy started talking. He couldn’t wait to see what the town had rustled up. It was bound to be kind of cringey, but Stan would enjoy it nonetheless. He fully expected terrible renditions of ‘We are the Champions’ tonight.

 

What he got, however, was not that.

 

The stage was set up with actual instruments and some familiar faces. Stan barely recognized Rodney these days, if it weren’t for the same, vivid green he still dressed in. The others weren’t so familiar, but the name scrawled on the drumset kind of gave it away.

 

“Uh...is Tweek playing  _ here _ ?”

 

The lights went out and no one answered his question. When they came back on, Tweek had re-appeared, this time, on stage. He looked confident enough with a mic in hand. Different, somehow, as if nothing could shake his determination anymore. He greeted the crowd, who all seemed to be milling around, unsure if this was going to be great or awful. He didn’t blame them. Metal was hardly the kind of music related to sports, but tonight wasn’t about their differences. It was about showing appreciation to people who earned it. And to Tweek, it was the true apology that he owed Craig. And maybe Stan too. This was how he could show his support, and damn it, he was going to make it count and get this whole crowd pumped up.

 

“This one is for the lions.”

 

Kyle, enchanted by his boyfriend’s appearance on stage, confident and ready, still managed to drag his eyes away if only to look at Stan and Craig. Both of them looked kind of surprised which had him smile.

 

“He said this is going to be on his debut album. A ‘song about hot football players winning at football’.” 

 

“Seriously?”

 

Stan couldn’t really hope to get an answer, because the song suddenly picked up from his controlled opening. The chorus was perfect for a crowd to pick up on quickly, and this crowd did not disappoint. It was too easy to hear the meaning out of the lyrics that Tweek sang. 

Well, too, his voice was surprisingly entrancing.

But more so than that, Stan heard what he needed to, and from a source he never expected it from. Acknowledgement was kind of his bread and butter, and always the key to his downfall.

 

As he listened to the crowd follow Tweek enthusiastically, he couldn’t help but feel something like content bloom in his chest. Kyle was to his left, captivated by his boyfriend. Craig was to his right, with his hand in Stan’s back pocket, lips moving quietly, singing along. All around them, people that celebrated them tonight, no matter who they were and who they’d be.

 

It was glorious. And he’d remember this feeling, lock it up in his chest and throw away the key.

 

FIN

* * *

 

AN: Here's the song Tweek is singing:

[Blood of a Lion](https://youtu.be/2DCpMJjKAPQ)

 

Thank you for reading! We had a blast!


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